The Superficial World of the Supernaturally Gifted
by ThePeregrine
Summary: If the number of positive reviews are any indication, this story is probably better than I thought it to be. Villians, supernatural abilitities, broken friendships, mysteriously gloved hands...read on to participate in these extraordinary adventures...
1. The Treasure and the Cam

Horton Grimshaw School for the Supernaturally Gifted

Tuesday April 8th, 12:03 PM

PART ONE: as told by Claire

What exactly was the definition of stalking? I'd always been curious, but I had procrastinating tendencies and never found the motivation to locate a computer and consult . Or, find a dictionary, but exerting physical effort to achieve something was as outdated as walkmans.

Currently, I would've even mind searching for a dusty, asthma inducing dictionary, because I had an incentive.

I needed to know if I had been stalking Cam Fisher for the past three hours, or if my actions could be translated to "friendly following".

No one had noticed, fortunately. Not even Cam himself. I presume it was mostly because I remained invisible for those three hours, not in a figurative sense, but actually, physically invisible.

Like every student who attended the school, I possessed a supernatural gift. Everyone's was different, as far as I knew on the matter, and no one knew why or how they manifested. Skeptics believed it to be a strange virus which inflicted mutation to the chromosomes. A significant portion of people just thought it was the evolution of humans.

We're been evolving since the beginning of time, is there any plausible reason why we should stop? Sure, we're intellectually superior to every species on earth, but we aren't physically. Without our wits, we'd be near the bottom of the vulnerability scale (the bottom being the most vulnerable, incidentally).

These abilities were just the not-so-subtle evolution of our species. And for whatever deranged reason, some humans, most humans, weren't making the change.

Predictably, us specials were isolated. Then ordered into special programs. The adults were dismissed from their occupations and sent to work in mundane factory jobs. The children were sent to one of the many newly established schools for the supernaturally gifted. There they would learn math, science, Spanish 101, English, history, overcoming your supernaturally enhanced opponent 101, the supernatural in literature, etc.

I shared Spanish 101 with Cam Fisher. And even though you weren't allowed to use powers during classes, and I didn't, he still treated me as if I were invisible.

"Claire, have you been stalking again?"

I jumped, startled, and slid back into my visible form. Layne was staring reproachfully at me.

No one was able to diagnose Layne's ability. It was something between "all knowing" "physic" and "constant dormant premonitions". She had nightmares that revealed the future, remembered everything she saw, heard, touched, smelled, with perfect accuracy, and seemed to comprehend her surroundings with a supernatural understanding.

Which is precisely why she saw while I was in invisible form.

I felt inclined to apologize to her, and then reevaluated it. It wasn't as if I were spying on _her._

"That's creepy, a little," Layne declared, smiling impishly.

"It's creepy that you can see me," I countered, trying to remain aloof.

"I can't see you. I just knew you were there. I also know there are seven spiders in this hallway, four people, eight doorways, a centipede, a glove under the carpet, and a bad impressionist painting," she recited without shifting her gaze.

"You forgot about the vase," I said, pointing to a vase, obscurely positioned in the corner of the hallway, without a table underneath it or decorative flowers in it.

Layne shrugged. "Too insignificant to mention," she said, dismissing my correction with a wave of her hand.

We walked slowly down the corridor, and when we passed by Cam, I held my breath and wished I'd remained invisible.

He didn't take note of the struggle I was enduring to not trip or do something equally as embarrassing in his presence.

Layne tugged me down the hall by the sleeve of my yellow fleece sweater. "It's your second day here and you're already falling for that dude. Everyone falls for him. Every member of the Treasures has probably made out with him at least once."

"Who are the Treasures?" I demanded, trying to sound uninterested.

"Oh, just a group of girls who think they're superior to everyone here," Layne answered nonchalantly, rolling her eyes to indicate the inconsequentiality of the matter.

"Well are they?" I prompted eagerly. I prayed they weren't pretty or powerful or smart or cool. If they were, I knew Cam was far out of my league. So far in fact, that the vicinity he stood in could be deemed a different continent from the tiny village my league spanned over.

"See for yourself," Layne grumbled, nudging me in the direction of the geography classroom.

A notice was pinned to the door:

FUTURE LEADERS OF AMERICA LUNCH MEETING TODAY: NEW MEMBERS ENTER AT OWN RISK TO BE EVALUATED BY THE TREASURES

"Evaluated?" I echoed, my voice softer and weaker than I'd intended. "Are they really that…"

"Sky high on the social hierarchy? Yup." Layne began finger combing through her snarls of dark hair impatiently. "Never spoken to any of them, especially Massie. I hear she's brutal."

"Let's meet them," I suggested suddenly, deeply regretting my offer the second I uttered it.

Layne gawked dramatically, and then quickly regained composure after realizing the door had a window. "No. Way. They'll eat us alive."

"I'm new here. I have an excuse to be naïve," I insisted, warming up to the idea of observing the cam competition.

"Claire, I"—

"Fine. I'll go alone." I knocked once. Then with a burst of courage I knocked three more times— with aggression and determination.

The door swung open slowly, without being pulled open by a person. It creaked slowly to reveal a dark classroom, dotted with stylishly clad girls who leered at us from their seats. The door situation seemed to provide a rather ominous atmosphere, or maybe it was the leering inhabitants of the room, and Layne tried to scurry off with no avail.

I snatched the hood of her fuchsia gap sweater and dragged her inside with me, plastering a sunny smile on my face as I approached the girls.

"I'm Claire L"—

"We know who you are," said a lithe, pal brunette, who sat in the back of the classroom, shrouded in an eerie darkness. "This is our three minutes of dark and silence of the day. Please leave and return when our session has ended."

"Um, Okay," Layne snorted, and turned to leave.

I seized her wrist and proceeded towards the nearest occupant of the room. She was slouched in her seat, humming softly to herself, her long blonde hair hanging casually in front of her face like a substitute for a sleeping mask.

"Can we sit down?" I asked.

She rose her head, spitting pieces of fine hair from her mouth before replying, "fine, sure."

"Stop interrupting our darkness and silence period!" a whiny voice from the back of the room complained.

I immediately shut up and pulled Layne to some empty seats. There were only four people in the room, and none of them even continued to acknowledge our uncomfortable presences.

Suddenly, the lights snapped on. The brunette had suddenly appeared at the light switch by the door without my noticing. Even Layne seemed surprised, and she knew what happened in a room without even opening her eyes.

In the light, I perceived the girl to be sufficiently pretty, with long waves of chestnut colored hair and piercing amber eyes. Her features were proportionate and her red lips were parted in what I discerned to be contempt.

"Do you really think you're great and powerful enough to be in this club?" she asked slowly, in a raspy, slightly epic tone.

I nodded dumbly, and side glanced at Layne, who was shaking her head back and forth slowly. I smacked her. She alternated to nodding.

The brunette smiled. "I'm Massie. A teleporter. The blond is Kristen, a sprint, the red head is Dylan, a pyrokenetic, and the Spanish one is Alicia, who can read minds and perform telekinesis with extreme focus."

After each introduction, the said girl murmured a word of greeting unenthusiastically.

I felt very out of place and redundant.

Massie looked expectantly at me suddenly.

"Oh!" I said. "Um, I'm Claire, and I um, can turn invisible?"

Massie nodded in approval. "Decent," she commented mildly. "You? GAP?" she addressed Layne, whose unsightly GAP hooded sweater had already earned her a crude nickname.

"I'm Layne. And I see dead people." She maintained a perfectly straight face.

"Ehmagawsh!" gasped the red head. "Are there any in this room?"

Suddenly the blonde, the red head, and the Spanish girl erupted in squeals of horror.

"DIE DEAD PEOPLE, DIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The red head screeched, thrusting her hand at the nearest desk and setting it alight with hungry dark flames.

"DYLAN!" Massie shouted abruptly. Then she leaned into the hallway and called "Derrick!"

Moments later, a shaggy blonde boy hustled in, unconcerned about the fire's growing heat and danger, and extended his arm towards it. A rush of ice enveloped the flames and morphed them into pathetic wisps of black, defeated smoke.

Everyone was quiet and expressionless, watching the charred desk crumble in a heap.

Then Massie exploded: "Dylan! What did I tell you about your fire? CONTROL IT!"

Derrick, after presenting the girls with a cocky grin, fled the room.

"Sorry," Dylan mumbled, chewing nervously on a strand of hair. "I needed to scare the spirits away. Did it work?" she turned to Layne hopefully.

Layne nodded. "Oh yes," she said.

"Oh shut up." Massie rolled her eyes. Soundlessly, she disappeared from her position at the doorway and appeared in front of Layne.

"There's no such power. She's probably just embarrassed about her genuine power."

Layne flushed. "My power is NOT to be ashamed of," he huffed, crossing her arms over her sweater.

"Oh, puh-lease, GAP, if you were powerful, you would've told us your power, like Claire." She jammed her thumb in my direction.

I suppressed a triumphant smile.

Layne sniffled unhappily. She pushed pass Massie and stormed out of the room. Stopping in the threshold, she said to the red head: "There's a ghost sitting on you."

She disappeared before Dylan started clawing at the air around her frantically.

I knew Layne, even after two days of friendship, to be confident. I knew she possessed an irrepressible air of self assurance. So why couldn't she withstand Massie's personal attack? Was it because she genuinely thought her power to be inferior? I suddenly felt very lonely and cold.

And then Cam Fisher entered the room, stimulating every cell in my body and yanking me from my quiet, sad state.

Grinning charmingly at Massie, he dropped his messenger bag to the floor and embraced Massie in a manner I couldn't properly discern yet. Friend or Lover?

Massie was blushing like a strictly raised catholic school girl whose knee socks had just slipped down an inch.

"Hey Dylan," he nodded to the red head after the mysterious hug had been delivered. He then greeted Alicia and Kristen, whose pleasure was equivalent to Massie's.

So, he really had had a taste of each of the Treasures.

Did he strictly prefer Treasures for lovers? If I became a treasure, would he love_ me_?

The concept was enthralling. I felt a fresh wave of confidence take residence in my quiet, reserved demeanor.

Cam took notice of me. "You the new Treasure?" he asked, beaming.

"Potentially," Massie said, before I could respond uneasily that I didn't know. "She's definitely a member of this club now. Definitely decent material."

"Are you new, or something?" he asked me, as if two days ago the Spanish teacher hadn't introduced me to the class.

"Yup," I replied; my confidence and exuberance slowly dwindling. I was considering the notion that I wasn't pretty or cool or talkative enough to end up with him. It seemed fairly plausible. Was I not even powerful enough?

In a blur, Kristen was standing beside Cam. "What ever happened to that race we scheduled?" she cooed, playfully dancing hyper speed circles around him.

He chuckled lightheartedly. "Maybe it should be cancelled, indefinitely, considering you get faster every time I see you."

Kristen smiled. Presumably the mild compliment compensated for the blatant rejected Cam had just delivered.

"So what's your thing?" he asked interestedly, turning to me.

"Invisibility," I said, hating how lame and passive it sounded.

"That's awesome!" His face lit up. "I've never met someone who can just—disappear forever."

"Cam can phase through solid objects," Massie said suddenly, inserting herself into the conversation. "If someone shot him, he could let the bullet go right through him."

"Wow." For some reason, I'd never fantasized about Cam having an awesome power. I just daydreamed about his eyes and his hair and his smile. How very superficial of me.

"We'd make a great team," I heard him say, and I assumed he was talking to Massie. When I snapped back to reality, his different colored eyes were in intent on me.

"During gym, for fighting with powers, the teachers always pair up people with abilities from the same category," he explained. "We both fall under the category Phantom, someone who uses evasiveness to their advantage. Invisible and untouchable—the ultimate combination."

The happiness seemed to drain from the treasures' faces at hearing this proclamation.

"But being untouchable and super fast is much more desirable," Kristen protested, wearing a fake, bright smile.

Cam shrugged, not even sparing her a glance. His eyes were on me. "My dad is friends with the dean of this school. I'll tell him to get the dean to transfer you into my gym class." Without another word, he picked up his bag and left.

I was left to face four angry, jealous treasures.

The room seemed to get hotter when Dylan stepped closer. "Why did you do that?"

I saw Alicia's cold stare, and remembered to edit my thoughts.

"I didn't do anything," I said evenly. "He seemed…nice."

"Puh-lease," Massie spat indignantly. "You were all over him. He's been our toy for weeks. There's no hogging the toy."

Toy? He was just a possession that they used mindlessly?

"Not mindlessly," Alicia sneered.

Oooops.

"Girls," Massie said, her contemptuous stare making me shiver. "I think we should teach Claire a lesson."

They all sniggered in agreement.

"I'll teleport her to the forest, and she can find her way home."

"What?" I cried. "I'll get lost!"

"That's kind of the point," Kristen muttered.

Massie reached for me. I dodged her outstretched hand quickly and slipped into invisible mode. They all cried out angrily. Without thinking, I sped from the room and hurried down the hall.

In my careless haste, I didn't see the person walking at a leisurely pace in front of me.

"AH!"

In a tumble of limbs, school supplies, and a messenger bag, I found myself lying on top of Cam.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed, pulling myself up quickly.

"No problem," he was smiling perplexedly.

Then Massie was standing beside me. "Excuse us," she said sweetly, and she seized my arm.

Before I could protest, we disappeared.


	2. The Reuniting and the Supression

I'm sorry this is so incredibly late! I was in Europe! Blame it on Iceland! :)

PART TWO: as told by Landon

I woke to the sound of voices.

Assuming they were just remnants of memories taking strange and realistic forms of dreams, I ignored them without sparing curiosity.

The voices grew louder. They were angry, female voices. The two participants of the dispute spat angrily each other with audible resentment for one another. One's voice was smooth and snide, the other impatient and frantic.

They bantered in this manner for several more minutes until I summed up the energy to see if the voices actually belonged to actual, living entities or just fragments of my imagination.

Crawling with languid motions from my small nest like ball of ragged blankets I used for a bed, I yanked down a faulty wooden shutter and peered out the window.

Not too far from the meadow which my cabin sat on were two young girls pushing at each other aggressively, red faced and furious.

They hadn't yet noticed my cabin, the suspicious location of it, desolate and isolated from civilization. That aspect alone would probe curiosity. And if they came to inspect, I couldn't guarantee that they would live to return home.

"You can't leave me here!" the light haired girl shouted, motioning with wild gestures to the woods around them.

"I can and I will," the dark haired, menacing character replied smoothly, taking a few cautionary steps back from her wild companion. I recognized her at once and gasped involuntarily. "No one gets away with pushing the treasures around; especially not new kids," she was saying.

A hot, irate emotion rose in my throat. So she still resides in the school? I certainly didn't like being reminded of the school and my short lived existence in that world, and I surely didn't like anything related to the school.

"They brought this upon themselves," I assured myself quietly as I pulled open the door of my cabin and stepped into the dim evening light.

As I approached them, I debated over which method of extermination I would use. Fire was the most fun, but they hadn't done anything particularly bothersome –yet, so it wasn't right to let them suffer.

Moments later the blonde, angelic like girl, the observant one apparently, noticed me.

She frowned, scrutinizing me with the careful vigilance one dons when approached by a stranger in a forest. Despite her features of observantness and astuteness, things I admired greatly, her expressions and movements were easy to discern and interpret, meaning she could never survive long in the world of supernatural. Smart supers understand their opponents, no matter their abilities, and presently I saw no fear in face, only apprehension, meaning her ability allowed her to escape me quickly. It takes no more than a little observing to pick up these things. Last remnants of anger had long ago left her body, deeming her considerably less vulnerable to my coming attacks. Anger makes people sloppy and careless in fights because their only endeavor is to destroy their enemy.

The dark haired girl recognized me, because both fear and recognition crossed her face when I stepped into their clearing.

"Landon," she breathed, weakly.

The blonde's eyes flickered between her companion and me: confusion, suspicion. The twitching of her pinky finger indicated anticipation, expectancy of something shocking.

One would think being isolated from civilization for so long would cause a person to not at all understand their fellow human beings, but Instead of physical company I'd chosen to watch. And I'd developed an immaculate understanding of human emotions just from watching.

"I thought you were dead." The dark haired girl only stared with such intensity I found myself avoiding her eyes.

"I can't die," I said flatly.

"But"—

"Massie," I said, deliberately raising my voice. "I _can't_." I had tried to. Other people had tried. It was simply impossible.

"You remember me?" she almost gasped the words.

"It's only been a few months."

"Yes, but the"—

"I'm not that_ weak_," I answered irately, through clenched teeth. "I healed, Massie." She was referring to the school incident. After the school had deemed my abilities out of control, they had thrown me away. But then the murders started. And it wasn't my fault. My ability was the power of amalgamation, the power to copy others' powers. Once I had attained fifteen powers, I became out of control. The sole reason why human company was forbidden. I couldn't be alone with someone for an hour before accidentally killing them. The school's sick founders had hunted me relentlessly. They had shot me, thrown me off a cliff, drowned me, and injected me with mind blanking serums (intended to destroy my brain, but only had minor effects, one of which memory loss, which I had prevailed over after only months and regained my memories, this was why Massie thought I didn't remember her). I couldn't die. It was the abilities I had attained. Regeneration allowed me to heal from any wound or sickness, internal or external, the power of obduracy made my skin impenetrable, and the power of hydrolith allowed me to breathe underwater and withstand any water pressure for any amount of time. And then there were my other powers. Listing them, all with explanations, would take too long, and there were some powers I had I didn't understand or know how to use. The most frequently used power I had was pyrokenisus, the power to create and manipulate fire with my bare hands. I was prepared to use that right this moment. Massie had helped me when the schools' people hunted me, but after a while she'd given up on me. I didn't appreciate disloyalty.

She didn't deserve mercy, I decided. Nor did this strange companion of hers.

"Massie, let's…let's go…" the unfamiliar girl said. She was smart to know I wasn't good news. Though I doubted anyone at the school ever told her of me. The founders had probably forbid it.

"_They _think you're dead too, Landon," Massie said gravely, ignoring the light haired girl. Obviously she meant the founders of the school. And obviously I was aware of this. If they were still searching for me, then I wouldn't be sitting leisurely in my shack every day. I would be running, ducking, and flinging myself off cliffs constantly to avoid their wrath.

"Don't tell"—I started to say, but Massie interrupted me with a brisk nod.

"I know you don't think it, Lan,"—I cringed when she addressed me as that, she had no right to use stupid old nicknames—"but I still care about you, and I would never tell the founders."

"Bull sh"—

"Shut up," she said sharply, and I hadn't noticed the tears forming in her eyes before because I couldn't associate it with cruel, stoic Massie. "I helped you for as long as I could. I know _you_ can't die, but if they knew I was helping you they'd kill _me_ in an instant."

_I would've saved you,_ I wanted to say, but it was completely out of context, inappropriate, and I didn't know how true it was. At one time I had feelings for Massie. At one time she would take us to a mountain top in Wyoming, or the Eiffel tower (using her ability, obviously) and we'd kiss passionately. That was before I became 'out of control'. And that connection could never be achieved again. I didn't handle betrayal well.

"Loyalty doesn't work like that." I was pacing impatiently now. "You can't switch it off when things get bad. That's not genuine loyalty."

"You would know?" tears were rolling down her cheeks. "You've been alive all these months and didn't even bother trying to contact me? This forest is only a few miles away from the school. Besides, you have my ability."

"I can't use it," I muttered, which was true. Teleporting was difficult to master. If I could teleport, I would've gone as far away from here as possible. Travelling by foot would surely get me caught.

And I liked to remain close to the school because I liked to watch. If I wandered far enough, I could see the courtyard. There I could watch for hours on end.

"What's going on?" the blonde asked suddenly. It was fear, not confusion that had probed her to ask this.

If I knew how to control my mind reading, I'd surely utilize it to understand her ability. I knew she couldn't be a danger, but I didn't at all trust her.

"You're going to kill us, aren't you?" Massie asked softly.

I hesitated. "Yes," I said.

She didn't bother teleporting. I could easily jump through the teleport scar she left behind after a teleportation and appear in the location she travelled to. That was something that came along with the ability of teleporting, even if I couldn't teleport herself.

Then the blonde did something that surprised me. She disappeared. There was no sickening, lack of air sound that accompanied a teleportation. It was invisibility. And I'd never encountered the ability before.

I wanted it.

The invisible girl was skilled with her gift. I knew she was moving around, because I could feel her presence drifting from one place to another. But her movements were soundless. I felt her eyes on me, and for once in my life I felt inferior, weak…powerless.

I didn't like it.

I needed to dispose of her, immediately.

Fire ignited in my palms. She appeared suddenly, in front of me, a weak looking Swiss army knife in her feeble grip.

"Claire, Landon, stop!" Massie cried.

Claire thrust the knife at me. I didn't bother avoiding it. I wanted to see her expression when the knife broke upon impact with my skin.

But the knife slid easily into me. I was so confused, shocked, and horrified that it took me a while to understand the pain. Blood dripped from the wound tentatively. It was a small cut inflicted by a tiny knife, but the knife protruding from my chest was an image disturbing enough to make me sick.

How was it that my skin hadn't blocked the knife? Why wasn't the wound healing? The pain was astonishing. I couldn't remember the last time I felt pain—physical, at least.

I dropped two my knees and my vision became hazy. A melodramatic reaction, considering such a small knife and such a powerful super equal no reaction at all. But it was the fact that without warning, my powers had disappeared. I looked at my hand and willed them to ignite, and they did easily.

Claire had two hands clamped over her mouth. Had she expected the knife to hurt me, or was it like a last noble act, asserting her bravery?

Why was it when Claire attacked me my power faltered? Was there something special about her?

"Claire…what did you do?" Massie asked. She was no longer frantic. Massie was smart, and she understood supers and their abilities easily.

"Nothing…I didn't know it would…" Claire trailed off.

I removed the knife from the wound and tossed it to the ground. The wound wasn't healing. I raised my head and looked at Claire. "What did you do?"

"You repressed his abilities when you made contact with him," Massie told Claire.

"But that doesn't happen with you, Massie," Claire replied, distant.

"Maybe it's just with…Landon."

Claire looked perplexedly at the small flames, still lit in one of my hands. She waved her hand at it. It disappeared instantly into a wisp of smoke.

"You can…control Landon," Massie said. "Suppress his powers."

"That's impossible," I spat, not loving the concept. The wound had healed, but it wasn't that I was worrying about.

"I've heard of supers who can suppress supers with amalgamation," Massie insisted. "It's rare, but it exists."

I found it strange how casual our conversation had become. Once it was Massie accepting death, not it was simply three teenagers discussing the basics of supernaturalism. I wanted to leave, very much, but was intimidated by this strange Claire girl, and didn't doubt she would follow. She seemed fascinated by her power over me.

There was a suspicious noise in the forest behind us. Without thinking, I turned and sprayed the general area with hungry flames.

"Ow! *$#^&! What the hell?" and from the flames emerged my least favorite super: Cam Fisher.


	3. The Battle and the Encounter

PART THREE

As told by Massie

Cam emerged from the flames, physically unscathed because of his ability, but pale faced and horror struck at seeing who had produced the fire. "Landon."

"Cam," Landon replied, in a likewise snide and resentful tone.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Cam asked. The flames behind him were beginning to grow, metaphorically accurate considering tempers were rising.

Momentarily ignoring his enemy, Landon extinguished the flames with a simple swish of his hand. He turned his attention back to Cam. "I don't die easily."

Then Cam looked to Claire and me. He regarded Claire with a sort of apprehension, as if he worried for her safety though she was visibly fine. Incidentally, he regarded me with disdain; perhaps because he knew I was previously associated with Landon (and by that I mean helped him escape multiple times) and seeing us together once more revived those unpleasant memories.

"Cam," I said softly. I knew Cam was experienced in the field of jumping to conclusions.

"Are you conspiring with him against Claire or something?" Cam demanded in a low voice, assuring my beliefs of his jumping to conclusions.

"I was just taking Claire here for a joke, I didn't even know he was alive!" I exclaimed, exasperated.

"What a coincidence," he spat bitterly.

Claire remained silent, as did Landon.

When I didn't respond to his potential accusations, he continued, somehow encouraged by my silence. "You know what this clearing means. This is where the school founders took Landon when they kicked him out of the school. I was there; you were too. It's not some coincidence that you wanted to take Claire here. If you were playing a joke, you wouldn't take her to a place so meaningful."

What Cam was saying made sense, and seemed plausible. But when I had teleported with Claire, my only intention was to take her far away from Cam. Somewhere desolate, dark, depressing, imprinted with ominous memories. I hadn't chosen a destination, I'd just let my ability guide me to a location I'd somehow chosen in my subconscious to be the darkest, most depressing place. This, incidentally, was the clearing where the founders had guided Landon and his friends one January night. They'd brought us friends, meaning Cam, Dylan, Kristen, Alicia and me, because they knew he wouldn't fight or kill if his friends were to witness it. At the clearing, they unlocked his shackles and shoved him to the ground. Landon was short-tempered. This act of aggression provoked him, and effortlessly and perhaps even unintentionally, he killed one of the founders. The founders all had magnificent abilities, but they were senile and old, and like life itself, powers expire eventually. They were unable to defend themselves as Landon attacked. Then Cam stepped in, more skilled and experienced with his ability then Landon was with any of his. Cam took down and restrained his own best friend to protect the founders. Thus end of their friendship; the beginning of their hatred for each other.

"I wasn't thinking," I said quietly; a weak excuse. I wished I hadn't ever gotten jealous of Claire and taken her to the clearing. I wished I still thought Landon was dead. Cam probably wished the same thing, and almost certainly Landon also.

Landon drew in a deep breath, then said, to cam: "So, shall we finish this now?"

I immediately placed myself in front of Cam. "Landon, just go away. No one's fighting here or now."

"It's okay, Massie," Cam said grimly, pushing me gently out of the way. "I'd like to finish this."

Claire spoke up for the first time since Cam's unexpected arrival. "Stop it Cam, you'll just get h…" she trailed off.

Landon laughed cruelly before hurt could register on Cam's face. "Even _she_ doubts you, Cam. She knows you'll get hurt within the first few seconds."

"Cam, why are you even here?" I demanded, desperate to divert their attention from this imminent fight.

"When you teleported, I had a feeling you'd take her here," he responded noncommittally. "Not a feeling; I dreamt about it."

Months ago, when our friendship was still intact, Cam had confided in me that his dreams often told the future. They rarely were beneficial because of how vague and blurry they were, but evidently they'd developed a little.

"Dreamt about it," Landon said laughingly. "That's lovely. Let's determine how much these dreams can help you in a fight."

At that, shockingly, Cam smiled a little. "Well…" before he could complete that thought, Landon lunged at him. And Cam knew this was going to happen, because he easily dodged (using his ability, of course) Landon's approach and swung his fist at his face. Landon winced, though on a normal person the punch would've at least made them stagger backwards from the impact.

"If a bullet can't kill me, you can't for sure," Landon said, unfazed by Cam's punch.

They were pacing now, circling around each other, waiting for one another to strike. Cam didn't look as confident now. Clearly his past dreams weren't going to help him anymore.

"This is ridiculous!" I exclaimed. I planned on grabbing both Claire and Cam and teleporting us back to the school, but I knew Landon would jump through the teleportation scar I left behind and follow us. His eyes were wild and wide the way they got when bloodlust was on his mind.

Landon attacked. Cam was letting each strike phase through his body, but there was a certain expression of apprehension on his face.

Landon was grinning deviously. "I know your power very well Cam. You can only remain in phase mode so long if things are constantly passing through you."

Cam didn't attempt to deny this. Landon struck—again and again. Until finally, Cam couldn't hold up any longer, and Landon's fist made impact with Cam. Somewhere throughout Landon's short-lived time at the school, he had attained the power of super strength. His punch threw Cam at least six feet across the clearing.

"CAM!" Claire and I screamed in unison.

His crumpled form was motionless.

Landon was smug and satisfied, and I was contemplating grabbing his wrist and teleporting him to a desolate mountain peak when Claire stalked towards him—and punched him. Since she was able to suppress his powers, her weak punch did more damage than Cam's powerful one. Landon held his jaw forlornly. "You hurt me," he said, something I doubted he said often. "More than the bullets, more than the drowning, or cliff diving without parachutes…" his voice caught at the end of his sentence, and for a brief moment I suspected he would cry. But Landon seemed only mesmerized by her ability to throw a weak punch—and, well, to suppress his abilities.

Claire was miffed by his reaction, but without hesitation, kicked him in the shin. The violence seemed to be exciting her.

Landon yelped in hurt. "It's so weird," he said mildly, somewhat delirious, "to feel pain."

Cam had made progress in his slow recovery. He was presently trying to pull himself up. When he saw Claire beating on Landon like a rag doll, he had to steady himself before he collapsed once more.

He looked to me incredulously, expecting a logical explanation to come from my mouth as soon as I noted his confusion.

"Okay, stop, stop, please," Landon whimpered, shielding himself from her weak blows. "Pain isn't so fantastic anymore."

Claire punched him once more, then turned away and exhaled in satisfaction. "Let's go, Massie," she said, and I understood at once that she wanted to teleport out.

"It's not fair," Landon was murmuring, "that such a weak person can inflict so much damage on me."

Cam and Claire gathered around me and Landon watched. They all placed a hand on my shoulder (one needs to maintain physical contact with a teleporter if they want to teleport with them). But Landon wasn't ready to let us go. When he saw we were preparing to leave, his hands ignited. His eyes were set on Cam.

"Watch out!" I screamed just as the fire left his hands.

Claire turned and jutted out her hands in an awkward, shield like pose. The fire died and disappeared instantly.

Cam's jaw dropped open in surprise. "How…?"

"Later," I said, and we disappeared.

PART 3 (CONTINUED)

As told by Landon

I must say, after two visits from two of my least favorite people, I was not happy. Especially after the weak Claire girl suppressed me powers and beat on me like I was nothing. Their unexpected visit made me feel angry and unbalanced. In my careless rage, I did something very stupid. I left my cabin, the vicinity of my cabin, and wandered into a nearby town I'd never seen. I was smart enough to know that I was in public people from the school would catch me, but I was too angry to be careful.

Usually I stole food from cottages nearby, but I felt like a Good Samaritan eating in a restaurant—and subsequently slipping out of the restaurant without paying (I had no money) when no one was watching. When I was finished my stupid streak, I began making my way towards the forest's edge. I felt someone was watching me.

I entered the forest. I steered off of the path, trying to rid the ominous presence following me. It wasn't disappearing. Finally, I was at the clearing, my cabin in view. I sighed in relief. And then a shadow was over me. A boy, my age probably, with shaggy blonde hair and mischievous brown eyes landed in front of me. He had come from the sky. Involuntarily, I cried out in surprise.

He snickered. "You've never seen a flyer? How deprived you are."

"Who the hell are you?"

"No no no," the blonde boy said, dismissing my question with a wave of his hand. "Who the hell are _you_? And please say you're that kid who was sent away from the school for being too powerful." He made a show of crossing his fingers and biting his lips in anticipation of my answer.

"Um, yes," I replied hesitantly.

"Awesome!" he said. "I've been looking for you."

I turned and began walking away. "I don't associate myself with people who attend the school."

The strange boy placed a hand on my shoulder and whirled me around. "I don't go there, you idiot. I can fly, asshat. I'm not going to sit around it classes when I can freakin' _fly_."

"Then what exactly are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm like you, I guess. You could say I was inspired by you. Your dramatic escape from the school. I wanted to do the same. So I messed someone up then got kicked out. They told my parents, so I got disowned, so now I'm homeless; like you."

The kid spoke nonchalantly, as if being disowned and homeless was nothing important.

"All for the better, though, right?"

I tried to nod.

"So anyways, I presume you hate the school, right?"

"Um, yeah," I answered distractedly. Was it my fault he was currently in this position? Homeless, disowned…After all, my "dramatic escape" from the school had presumably inspired his.

"I was looking for you, man, for like, weeks. You know why?"

"Why?"

"You and I, we're gonna destroy the school together."

PART 3 (CONTINUED) As told by Claire

When we arrived home, I was only too grateful to have quiet and solitude in my dorm room. I cried at first, controlled, suppressed sobs, probably some sort of posttraumatic stress. Then I realized if I didn't want this kind of life I would've never enrolled in the school. Not all supers enroll in a school for supers. Most did, because they would be socially isolated, avoided, and mistreated at mainstream schools, but if I truly hated the life of a super the option of returning home was available. Of course, my life here was considerably better than life back in Akron, Ohio. There, my parents treated me as if I had incurable cancer, not as if I had a special and desired ability. There my friends left me as soon as I confided to them of my ability. There, I hardly could call home _home_.

Cam was here. That was a pro. And I wasn't sure if Massie felt the same, but I felt we were developing a friendship. Despite my characteristic weakness, I was powerful—at least with Landon. He was feared and omnipotent and I could easily overcome him. It made me feel more super than superman.

Since I hadn't yet been assigned a roommate, I was alone that night. The rooms were spacious and adorned with beautiful antique furniture and tapestries, but that didn't compensate for the absence of a friend to comfort me.

Somewhere around midnight, there was a knock on my window. Fearing it was Landon, seeking revenge, I buried myself in my covers and remained still.

The window clicked and slid open. I peered out from under my blankets and saw a dark figure standing over me. I fought the urge to scream. Instead, I turned invisible.

The intruder pulled off my covers and snickered boyishly. It wasn't Landon at all, but a thin blonde boy with disheveled hair in dirty traveling attire. And for whatever reason, the invisible trick wasn't fooling him.

"Landon warned me about your disappearing act," he said, but he didn't sound menacing or evil at all. His voice was warm and friendly.

I appeared and sat up. "Who are you?"

"Derrick, I'm a friend of Landon's." He extended his arm. I ignored it.

"He sent you to get revenge or something?" I assumed. I could've screamed for help, or ran, but there wasn't anything intimidating about Derrick. He seemed as harmless and adorable as a happy puppy.

"Just the contrary." Derrick explained briefly their plan to destroy the school. Then he said that Landon had requested that I join their crew. I laughed.

"I'm not like you two," I said. "I don't hate the school. I don't want to destroy anyone or anything. I'm not a villain."

Derrick looked genuinely pleased when I referred to him as a villain. "Well, it's not really an _offer_, actually."

"What?"

He seized my arms and dragged me towards the open window. This happy, harmless puppy had fangs.

I didn't scream. I feared he could execute me in a single second with whatever sick, twisted ability he had.

My room was on fifth floor of the castle like building, so when he started pushing me towards the window, I instinctively struggled against his grip.

"Death by heights?" I said.

"Not death. Not yet at least," he replied happily. With one last shove I was out the window. I flailed helplessly as the ground flew towards me. Then arms wrapped around me, and I thought "kamikaze?"

And then the ground was parallel to us, and we were soaring above the trees.

I tried to say "What?" or "Huh?" or anything else that would express my confusion. Then it hit me. Derrick could fly. Even though I was being kidnapped, I was abruptly overwhelmed by how awesome flying was.

"Oh my god," I said.

"I know."

As we flew over the forest, I thought to myself: you know, maybe being a villain wouldn't be such a bad thing after all…


	4. The Death Touch and the Former Friend

So, thank god I have clever readers to compensate for the lack of wit I have, because as a reader who presumably prefers to remain anonymous (their screen name was Anonymous) cleverly pointed out, there's a little bit of confusion going on between who Derrick is and what his intentions are. I previously mentioned him in the first chapter as a minor character with the ability of creating and manipulating ice, though later in the story I introduced him as a flying runaway. Sorry, he is in fact a flying runaway and I totally forgot I used him as a fire extinguisher in the beginning.

-your devoted author

**PART 4**: as told by Layne

First period _History of Supernaturalism_ class Claire was suspiciously absent. I scoured the halls and dorms and classrooms for her after second bell rang, and began to suspect she'd slipped into invisible mode for the day. I needed to show her my drawing.

Quite often, whilst I was aimlessly doodling, I'd draw something that would later connect to the future. Currently, there was a crumpled sharpie sketch of Claire, surrounded by a ring of flames in my pocket. Evidently, it was quite vital that I warned her of this potential fate.

**PART 4** CONTINUED: as told by Landon

As I paced impatiently on the meadow where Derrick promised he'd return to, with Claire, suspicious flickers of flashlights from the forest began to distract me.

"Who's there?" I called out into the stillness, and there was an audible response, very faint, coming from what seemed to be the source of the distracting light.

Two figures stepped into view and trained their lights on my face, momentarily blinding me.

When I recovered enough to leap backwards and sink into a ready position, I recognized the one of the figures to be one of my former comrades from the school.

Chris Plovert was his name, with disheveled brown curls and crooked horn rimmed glasses that slid off his face whenever he looked down, characteristically abashed. Underneath the pure, yellow light of the flashlight, his round green eyes seemed red and glowing.

"Chris," I sighed, knowing very well he was here to be a nuisance, as he always ways. "What do you want?"

"You're alive?" He said flatly. "And you never told me?"

I shrugged. "It never came up."

Chris shone the flashlight in my eyes as punishment for the crude joke, probably the most aggressive thing he'd ever done. "You douche bag. I held a _funeral_ for you."

"You're angry that I'm alive?" I demanded incredulously. "I'm sorry! I haven't made contact with anyone though, it was too dangerous." I glanced at the boy beside him, scowling. "Who'd you drag into this, Chris, now I'll have to kill him so he won't tell."

"This is Dempsey," Chris murmured, lowering his head now that the conversation had calmed down some. "My best friend."

I felt the slightest bit of hurt when I realized I'd been replaced. I looked the replacement up and down, evaluating. He was scrawny and tan, with messy blondish hair and wide, and flat, emotionless eyes. Even though he was in the presence of someone who could take off his head within seconds, effortlessly, he didn't seem the least bit scared.

"What can you do?" I asked interestedly. It couldn't hurt to pick up a few recruits.

Dempsey shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothin'."

"That wasn't an invitation to share," I sneered. "That was a question."

"I can't do anything," Dempsey insisted. "I don't have a power."

"Then why do you go to the school?" I frowned.

"I…" Dempsey seemed to scramble for a plausible excuse.

"Liar," I accused, and when we made direct eye contact he still didn't seem afraid.

I turned my attention back to Chris, who was scuffing the ground with his feet distractedly.

"What say you join my little team, Chris," I offered in my kindest, most inviting tone.

"Team?" he echoed skeptically. The offer didn't seem to appeal to him as much as I hoped.

"I'm forming a rebellion, to take down the school," I explained.

"You're insane," Dempsey said mildly.

Chris nodded in agreement. "You'd have to have a pretty powerful team to do that," he pointed out softly.

"That's why I need you," I tried, attempting a friendly smile. Flattery was my only option of enticement now.

Chris shrugged. "I suppose my abilities could be of service…" he muttered, clearly pleased.

In fact, if Chris joined my team, he would make our invasion considerably easier. He could control technology with his mind, and though he'd never tried, I knew him to capable of wiping out all the electricity in the school with a single, coherent thought.

"Well, can I join too?" Dempsey asked after a thoughtful silence.

I laughed once. "What do _you_ have against the school, oh powerless one?"

"I know you founders can't be such great people after what they did to you," he said.

I stopped smiling abruptly and began advancing towards him solemnly. I grabbed his collar and lifted him five inches off the ground. He remained perfectly calm.

"That's not a subject I'm willing to discuss," I said.

He lifted a hand, smiled eerily, and touched my neck gingerly. An onslaught of pain, sharp and real, sent me to the ground.

I heard him laugh above me. "You don't intimidate me. I don't care if you're an amalgamationist, my ability affects _everyone_."

"And what the hell is it?" I asked from my pathetic, defeated position on the ground. The last traces of the pain were finally dispersing, but I was afraid to get too close.

"The death touch," he answered grimly. "If I maintain physical contact with someone for more than twenty seconds, they'll die. Ten seconds makes someone unconscious." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that."

"And it's painful, too," Chris added.

"Yeah, I got that," I murmured as I reluctantly pulled myself up. I kept my distance from Dempsey.

"So, I'm helping you because I know eventually I'll end up like you," Dempsey explained. "The Founders weren't happy to take me in, and they're constantly watching over me, making sure I never touch anyone, never get angry…it's imminent, right? I mean, if there's someone they can't fully control, they get rid of them."

I was going to protest, just out of habit, because I didn't like people I didn't particularly like being right. But it was entirely true.

"Okay, you're in," I sighed.

"Cool," Chris grinned, and it looked as if he were about to high five his friend, but then again, only if he wanted to endure horrific pain.

Sorry 'bout the shortness! Reviews are my only incentive, so please do so! :)


	5. The Epiphany and the French Psychic

I've begun to notice I make a lot of plot errors in my writing. When I write these fanfiction nothings, I simply sit down, open a word document, and go. There is no forethought. Alas, there is justification for the abundance of plot errors.

-Your mildly embarrassed author

**PART 5** as told by Massie

I was never very good at recognizing dark auras or detecting ominous air, but when the strange new boy entered the classroom, I felt as if this one, sharp instinct had compensated for all those years I'd been blind.

When the new boy made his swift, no nonsense entrance, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, tousled hair hanging over his bright, distrusting eyes in a precarious position, I simply _knew_ he was trouble.

And it wasn't your regular trouble, either, I suspected. This wasn't a substance abuse kind of guy or a runaway. This was an authentic criminal. There was a certain air closet-criminals projected. It was a combination of distrust and apprehension. And this boy was slathered in it.

"Settle, settle," ordered the Supernatural Science teacher, a stout, bitter man named Johann Bielmann. "Our new student is not actually new to the school, so don't get excited," he said, and a collective murmurs of disappointment followed his announcement. "He's just switched to AP supernatural sciences from academic, so treat him nicely, please." He addressed the new student: "Sit anywhere," he said, and because fate is as twisted as it's claimed to be, the boy chose to take the empty place beside me.

I nearly forgot my apprehension of this potential criminal when I saw his face. Previously, his hair had shielded it from view, but currently he swept his hair away from his face, revealing what I thought to be a face worthy of narcissus's jealousy.

His eyes drew my attention first. They were a vibrant shade of green, rimmed with a dark gold, and his eyelashes were so thick each individual lash seemed to be hopelessly tangled with at least one other. His eyes were both wide with innocence and slanted with distrust, something I found to be vaguely intriguing. His full, pinkish lips were parted in what seemed to be anxiety. His skin was flawless and colored by the sun. His hair was a bronze colour, tousled and disheveled. I had seen him before, around the school, but his hair always covered his face.

In my engrossment, I hadn't realized Mr. Bielmann was speaking to me.

"_Ms. Block_." His tone was impatient enough to be passively irate.

"Yes?" I woke from my trance and widened my eyes, feigning innocence.

"Can you explain the Bard Theory?"

Every occupant of the room turned to me expectantly—except new boy, I noticed numbly.

"I, uh," I muttered, lowering my head in shame.

"The Bard Theory is the scientific theory that supernaturalism can never be hereditary." The sweet, soft voice was coming from the new boy, of course. "Our children won't have powers," he added. "Unless two supernatural people, er, _mate_. But if it's a supernatural person and a normal person, the offspring will surely be normal."

"Correct," Mr. Bielmann proclaimed, and he proceeded to write a mind-numbingly complicated scientific formula on the chalkboard.

I felt inclined to thank the boy, but his lack of imperfections was somewhat intimidating. He was beautiful _and_ scientifically well informed. And potentially evil, but I had yet to validate that.

When it seemed a significant portion of the class were distracted with the equations, including the teacher, I extended my hand towards the boy and offered my best introduction—and then hastily added a thank-you-for-saving-me-from-that-I'm-so-scientifically-ignorant. He accepted my hand (he was wearing leather gloves, so unfortunately, I missed the opportunity to make actual physical contact) graciously and replied, "your welcome, I'm Dempsey." That was the extent of our interaction, but it left me buzzing with delight till the end of the class.

After class, I made a beeline towards the cafeteria where I would meet friends the Treasures and share information on the latest Landon drama. We formerly spent lunch hours gossiping about in school relationships and who had the best powers, but with Landon's sudden re-existence, our group had become quite grim and based around Landon and Claire and Cam and the drama that ensued our little accidental meeting. I knew I shouldn't have told the treasures, since Landon practically threatened to take my life if I told anyone, let alone three people who weren't exactly well know for being good secret keepers, but I figured they could help.

"I think Claire should force him out of the town," Kristen said as she played with her salad uninterestedly. "She's the only one who could do it."

"He _wants_ to leave, idiot," Dylan argued. "He can't. If he goes into a town or on the streets, the schools' spies will catch him." She shrugged. "If Massie would teleport him to another state, maybe, or country, he would be safe." She turned to me. "Why _don't _you?"

"It would solve our problems," Alicia pointed out.

I had considered moving Landon away many times, when the founders first started hunting him, months ago. But Landon insisted that he would have to solve his own problems. Besides, he didn't deserve it. He'd done things to me that didn't exactly imply that I owed him one.

"He doesn't want help," I said simply. "He made that clear the day I tried to teleport him to California, last February."

"Oh yeah," Dylan said distantly, and the group fell into silence.

When the founders of the school had started hunting Landon, I'd offered Landon my assistance. He rejected the offer several times, and finally, unwilling to accept his stubbornness anymore, that would lead to imminent death, I grabbed his arm and told him I was taking him to California for safekeeping. He'd slapped me across the face—hard. And don't forget the super strength. The impact was so shocking it flung me to the ground. There was a bruise on my cheek for weeks. That wasn't the last time I offered my help though. I only stopped when the founders actually announced to the students that they were hunting Landon, that it became so serious that the students were forced to involve themselves in the hunt too. There were interrogations. Faculty would interview students about Landon's whereabouts. I was a central target; they suspected me for weeks. When they finally thought they'd killed him with the brain wiping serum, left him at the bottom of the river with three bullets in his chest and his hands bound with chains, the founders lied to the students, they simply said he crossed the border and escaped. I only knew what really happened because I saw. The founders and their huntsmen shot him three times and he dropped. His regeneration only healed him so fast, and they were on him in seconds. They bound his hands with cruel chains and injected the serum into him. They tossed him into the river.

It was traumatizing, and he simply couldn't realize that. I'd seen him die, nearly, and thought he was dead for many months. And he expected me to snap out of it in seconds.

"He doesn't deserve it," I said flatly. "And he surely won't accept it."

The Treasures nodded solemnly. Things weren't flouncy and lighthearted anymore between us. We couldn't make stupid clubs and exclude certain people and mock others and swoon over others. We only worried now. We worried for Landon who was in constant danger, for Cam who skipped classes and sat in the courtyard looking into the forest these days, maybe waiting for Landon, and for Claire who had disappeared the day before. I was sure she was just taking a little break from all the drama, hiding in her dorm room.

I stood suddenly, causing my tablemates to wince, a little startled at the abruptness of it.

"I'm going to visit Claire," I announced. "I haven't seen her in a while and I don't know how well she's coping with this."

The Treasures nodded understandingly.

This isn't how my sophomore year here is supposed to be, I was thinking as I briskly made my way towards Claire's dorm room. Even though I knew it was beyond malicious, I sort of wished I still thought Landon was dead. Everything was simpler in his absence. Cam liked me then because I wasn't always conspiring with Landon against the founders, there was no one to worry about getting killed, and my friends liked me better then probably because I was easier to be around when I wasn't internally breaking into pieces.

I knocked sharply on the door, listened intently for a moment, and then performed a basic lock-opening maneuver I'd picked up in tech class. In big cities, supernatural people are often times attacked by gangs. It was important that we learnt these things to defend ourselves.

The dorm was empty. Claire had no roommate, whether it was requested or there simply was no one, so the room was quite small. The window was wide open, the curtains billowing softly in the breeze.

"That's weird," I said aloud, trying to shake away gathering anxiety.

And at that moment, a large blur tumbled through the window.

I screamed instinctively and threw myself up against the nearest wall.

The blur revealed itself to be a lanky blonde boy, who, at seeing me, went unnaturally pale.

"Oh, shi"—

"Who the _hell_ are you?" I demanded furiously. I teleported a few inches just him, to assert myself as the superior in this situation, the more powerful.

He jumped a little in surprise, but my ability didn't impress him as much as it should've.

"I, uh, thought Claire didn't have a roommate," he said sheepishly.

"I'm her friend, not her roommate. Now answer my question!" I barked.

"I'm just a friend of Claire's," he explained hastily, then began gathering loose articles of clothing and shoving them into Claire's denim purse.

"_What are you doing_?"

"She's staying with us for a few days, so I'm just getting her things."

"_Us_?"

"Top secret," he explained, with a sly grin. He slung the denim bag over his shoulder and stepped onto the windowsill.

"Whoa, watch out!" I called out as he slipped off the sill.

I rushed to the window, expecting to hear a sickening _splat _as the lunatic made impact with the ground, but all I saw was a fading figure, soaring into the cover of the clouds.

"Wow," I whispered, absolutely awed.

PART 5: CONTINUED as told by Massie

Something was happening behind my back, and it was only too obvious that the notorious Landon was involved. Had he kidnapped Claire? Did he fear she would eventually be the inflictor of his own demise?

I wasn't going to be passive about this. Claire was in trouble.

Right after my strange encounter with the flying boy, I sought help from the best phycic psychic, the best "seer" in the school. She was a beautiful, pale skinned French senior, who had immigrated to the US, due to the lack of schools for the supernatural in her mother country. She had long tresses of dark hair and wide brown eyes. Her English wasn't perfect, but two years of French classes I'd taken to honor my partial French heritage would compensate for that.

Her roommate, a quiet girl who could detect and alter moods, opened the door.

"Is Isabelle there please?" I asked politely. The girl nodded, and led me into her room.

Isabelle was sitting casually on the center of her bed, sorting tarot cards. Her long waves were tamed into a messy side ponytail, and her red lips were pursed in concentration.

"Hi," I greeted her awkwardly.

She looked up and smiled, patted an empty space on the bed. I climbed onto the bed and sat facing her.

"You want see future?" she asked, not quite hitting the English accent well.

"No," I said. "I need to know where a friend is?"

She frowned, so I revised, then said "_je cherche une amie."_

She nodded, looking slightly grateful that I knew her language, and shuffled her cards. I was about to object, but her roommate, who was watching the ordeal passively, probably felt my hesitance and uneasiness about the cards and said "they work, don't worry. Some cards portray things that will happen to that person, and some cards show where they are or what they're doing."

I nodded, and allowed Isabelle to take my hand. She asked the name of who I was looking for, and I told her. I showed her the picture I brought of Claire. She closed her eyes, then with her other hand, she picked up five cards from the messy pile.

She opened her eyes and revealed the first. It was a pleasant drawing of a group of smiling people, all embracing. The cards were very old, and the figures on the cards were clad in old-fashioned attire.

"_Les nouveaux amis_," she declared.

"_Pouvez vous expliquer_?" I asked politely, not quite understanding what the card depicted.

"Um," Isabelle paused, tapping her finger against her chin, "your friend has new friends."

Of course, I thought grimly, Landon, Claire, and flying boy, best of friends; If you consider Stockholm syndrome to be a form of friendship.

Isabelle revealed the second card. It was a dark figure with red eyes, lurking in the shadows. "Bad guy," she said. "They don't want it."

The third. It was a picture of a jumble of limbs and fists and teeth and angry faces. "Fight," Isabelle explained.

The fourth was a picture of a forest. Obvious enough, I thought. Of course they were in the forest, where else would they be?

The fifth was laid in front of us, and Isabelle looked uneasy at recognizing the image. Even though I couldn't read psychic cards, I immediately knew what it implied.

"_Le feu_," Isabelle whispered, looking at me with a sort of sympathy.

The image showed a wicked looking fire, and inside the flames was a dark figure, raising its hands above it in plea for help.

Reviews are appreciated! Awful French dialogue courtesy of my Canadianness! Merci :)


	6. The Journey Home and the Guard

-Okay a brief author's note, a reader by the name of Rouge4ever (nice on misspelling the name, it's Rogue, actually) pointed out in the review section that I may in fact be stealing X men's ideas, in that, Dempsey has an ability daringly similar to that of Rogue's. No, you see, Rogue steals energy subsequently leading to death, Dempsey just kills. A significant difference. Thanks.

PART 6: as told by Claire

A death touch—since when did superpowers become so grim?

There didn't seem to be anything remotely murderous and fatal about Dempsey. He seemed to be more in touch with mediocrity than anything. He never discussed anything abnormal, likewise did anything abnormal. He practically epitomized normality. So how did he end up with an ability like this?

"We've run out of food again," Derrick muttered, as he prodded the ashes in the dying fire.

Landon lit up the bonfire pit again with a halfhearted wave of his hand. "We'll get Chris to bring some more."

"Hey!" Chris said, defensive. "I'm not some servant boy. If I'm going to participate in this extremely dangerous operation, I want _real_ duties."

"Such as?" Landon probed, raising his head expectantly, and so began a mindless argument.

"Just shut up!" I exclaimed impatiently after enduring three minutes of their inane bickering.

Dempsey's eyes seemed to glimmer with respect. "Thank you," he said, and a drawn out silence followed this.

The five of us, a team, sat huddled around a fire in the middle of a forest. At one point we were discussing invasion tactics, but then the conversation broke apart and suddenly we were having a heated debate over who would win in a fight: Landon or Dempsey. Dempsey didn't involve himself incidentally. He watched everything unravel, smirking, and didn't stop smirking until we agreed that Landon would win the fight.

I had yet to return to the school. They would wonder where I went. They would infer homesickness after I validated my innocence. They would think I went home for a few days to my family. Really I'd been kidnapped by a flying boy and was secretly forming a rebellion with a supposed dead former student and two other current students—oh, and the nice flying boy, also a former student—and together we would undermine the founders authority in drastic ways and take down the entire school. I don't particularly know why I was there, but it was something to do.

"Okay, Claire has to go home, we don't want suspicions arising," Landon proclaimed, standing. "Derrick. Would you be so kind?"

"You wanna fly piggy back style, or would you rather be in my arms?" He grinned devilishly.

"I'd rather walk home, with Chris and Dempsey, thank you," I said, trying with no avail to mask my amusement.

We set off slowly and carefully through the dark forest, picking our way anxiously amongst the pathless woods.

There was little conversation during our short journey home. It was only about an two hour hike to Landon's hide out, but there were several streams to be crossed, and that's where we met difficulties.

When we approached the stonewalls that enclosed the school grounds, Dempsey suddenly jerked Chris and me aside and pushed us to the forest floor.

"Don't, move," he said through clenched teeth.

An armed guard wandered by, whistling eerily, and we waited in our uncomfortable positions for several minutes.

Finally, Dempsey helped us up. He was uncharacteristically nervous; this worried me.

"They have guards patrolling the perimeter. This is new. I don't know why they've set up guards." He cursed under his breath. "Do you think a physic in the school saw our attack and warned the founders?"

"Impossible," Chris assured him. "Physics only see things that are certain. Do you really think our plan will be a success?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Hell no."

"Then why guards? And why now?" Dempsey demanded.

"Anyone there?" an unfamiliar voice called out uncertainly.

Instantly, we were silent. We pressed ourselves against trees and held our breaths. But we heard no parting footsteps.

I held out a hand to each boy. Chris, understanding quickly, grasped my left hand and nodded. But Dempsey slowly raised a gloved hand to my face and shook his head slowly. I could only make people invisible with me if we maintained physical contact—skin to skin. Clearly, this wasn't going to work with Dempsey, unless I could endure the horrific pain promised by his touches.

I looked to Chris, grimacing. We _had_ to return to the school.

Dempsey sighed under his breath and nodded his approval. We were to leave without him.

I switched to invisible mode, and Chris went with me. We crept along the trees until the guard was within our sight. He was pointing a flashlight in the general direction of Dempsey's hiding place, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Feeling impulsive and stupidly brave, I slipped the rifle from under his arms and whacked him over the head with it. He crumpled. I suppressed a yelp.

Chris laughed nervously.

"Dempsey!" I hissed. "It's safe!"

Dempsey emerged from his hiding spot, skeptical. Then he too saw the unconscious guard and began to giggle uncontrollably.

Within seconds the three of us, two of us invisible, dissolved into nervous giggling fits.

Suddenly a hand clamped down on my shoulder, and the sheer shock caused me to jump out of invisible mode.

I whirled to face my next opponent, only to see a guard, much larger than the one I took out, and much more menacing.

"You think they put average people on guard duty?" he said, frowning. "I can see through your trick."

I swallowed. _Run? Surrender? Attack?_

"What are you three doing out here past curfew?" he demanded suspiciously. "And what's Nathan doing on the ground?" he pointed to his assaulted co-worker.

"He took me by surprise," I explained nervously. "I can't control my reflexes…"

"You'll have to come see the founders with me," the guard sighed. "They set up a guard specifically to prevent these kind of things."

"What kind of things?" Chris asked, and Dempsey silenced him with a cold glare.

"Suspicious things, that's what," the guard answered mysteriously, and he pointed towards the school building. "In you go."

Before we could obey—or otherwise—Derrick landed on the man from above, clawing and yelling and kicking. The man resisted the surprise attack quite well, and managed to pull Derrick from him and toss him. Derrick spun upwards and disappeared into the dark sky.

"What on"—the man never completed his thought. Derrick struck again, very hard this time, and the man fell. He didn't move after that.

Derrick landed messily in front of us, bowed, and put a hand on Dempsey's shoulder. "I guess I'll have to fly you up, Dempsey, considering we don't really want you invisible at the expense of Claire's life."

We all stared at each other, shocked and confused for a moment. Then Derrick clapped and said, "Well go, you idiots!"

Chris and I disappeared and hastily made our return to the school. Derrick and Dempsey disappeared into the darkness of the forest.


	7. The Apathetic Friend and the Discovery

PART 7: as told by Massie

I hadn't intended to fall asleep in Claire's room, but I'd been waiting all night for her to return and watching the sun disappear behind the trees wasn't exactly enthralling enough to keep me awake for all those hours.

I heard the window slide open and I tumbled off the bed gracefully and landed on my hands and knees, stifling a yelp of pain. I listened intently. I knew flying boy would return her. Those creeps wouldn't risk walking through the doors, especially now that the founders had established armed guards to patrol the perimeter at night.

"Thanks Derrick," Claire cooed sincerely, and I heard a faint high five exchange of some sort.

"Do some homework and stomp some suspicions," he advised her in a low voice. "You can't disappear for a few days and expect no one to care."

"I'm not really known here," Claire said sheepishly, "Not many people care if I'm gone."

Derrick snickered. "You're so weird." There was a faint swish of air and I sensed Derrick had gone.

I stood shakily.

Claire screamed and I bolted across the room to clamp a hand over her mouth.

"Shut up," I hissed. "It's me."

She yanked my hand off her face. "Massie? It's so dark. Sorry." She stumbled across the room half blindly and located the light switch. She slapped it on and looked at me, exasperated. "What are you doing here?"

"You're conspiring with them, aren't you, Claire?" I said before I could stop myself.

She froze, and the semi-indignant expression dropped from her face. She stared, vacantly. "No, I was just visiting my family," she explained in a flat voice, "Derrick offered to fly me home"—

"Oh stop it, you know I know, you're just insulting my intelligence now," I sneered.

She frowned. "Massie, I'm sorry, this is hard to describe, but it's just"—

"Landon's dangerous, Claire," I said, impatient. "You can't go around planning to overthrow the founders lightheartedly. It's not just a plan that'll fall through and you'll be safe to go."

"I know, I know," Claire insisted quickly. "But the founders need to be overthrown. We won't kill them or anything."

I laughed shortly. "With Landon, killing has to be involved, trust me."

Claire tilted her chin upwards and a defiant look crossed her face. "Massie. I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do. I'm fine on my own. Actually, I prefer it that way. I don't need you scolding me all the time."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm scolding you because you're going to get yourself killed. I'm protecting you," I added, softening my tone to lighten the mood of our argument.

"Protecting me?" Claire scoffed. "I didn't come to this school just because I have powers. No one knew at home anyway. I came to achieve some sort of independence. And having you breathe down my back about my every decision isn't really helping."

With that, she gently pushed me towards the door. "No harm intended," she murmured, avoiding my eyes. "I just don't need you right now."

When I'd been successfully sissy-shoved from her room, she slammed the door in my face. My jaw was slack.

I turned and strode down the hallway with newfound determination. If I couldn't talk her out of this insanity, I knew one person who could.

I wasn't in the mood for petty distractions, but the first class I had the following morning was Supernatural Sciences. Dempsey would be there, sitting beside me, lazily answering impossible scientific questions without the least of trouble, and being adorably cute.

When I dumped my books on my desk and sighed, he sensed trouble and immediately swooped in to save me from my grim mood. We weren't really friends yet, just companions who smiled shyly in the halls and exchanged plain conversations outside of class on rare occasions. With Claire being the way she was and Landon planning to overthrow the school in which I presently sat, I didn't think I would have the patience to handle Dempsey induced anxiety.

"You okay?" he asked softly. His eyes were gleaming with compassion.

"Yeah," I lied automatically. "Just…things are happening, you know?"

He nodded like he knew. "Tell me about it," he sympathized. "I mean, one day you're having fun in school, the next day you're trying to…." He trailed off mysteriously, and then smiled faintly.

I cussed internally. I had a creeping feeling Dempsey was newly involved with the whole "destroy the school!" deal. But he didn't know Landon. He didn't know Claire. And I doubted his power was particularly fantastic, since he was never out in the courtyard practicing with friends like others did. During those hours after classes I noticed him sitting on the stone wall that enclosed the courtyard with Chris, just talking, observing. _Chris._ Of course. Chris and Landon had been good friends. He hadn't really tried to save Landon like I had, but they were still close. Close enough to reunite, and maybe drag Dempsey into it too?

I turned to Dempsey. "Can I ask you something personal, something that you never talk about?" I asked him. The teacher was peacefully surveying his class, waiting for them to calm before starting the lesson, and the enthusiastic voices surrounding us provided a good cover. After I knew his power, I could infer whether it was something Landon would use for his small battalion or not. Then I'd ask him about Landon. I'd get the answers out of him very quickly.

He nodded tentatively. "Sure, I guess."

I bit my lower lip nervously. "What's your ability?"

His plain expression flickered with panic. "Why do you ask?"

"Well everyone here is so open about it. Except you," I pointed out, trying to sound casual.

"It's um, kind of…" he paused. "Something I don't discuss a lot."

"Why? Do people tell you it's not good enough or something?" I prompted.

"Not really." He lowered his head a little. "I don't like talking about it."

I wasn't in the mood for shy obstinacy. "Well, is it related to the gloves? Because you never take them off."

He attempted a light-hearted laugh, but he was hardly an actor. "They're just _gloves_."

"Yeah, and those are just _chains_," I countered, pointing subtly to the kid in the back of the class with an intense case of ADHD—and super speed, who had to be chained to his desk in order to keep still. "It's all the same. Restrictions for our powers. Sometimes they're visible, sometimes not. For me it's that they don't let me look at travel magazines or watch travel television. I'm not totally in control of my teleportation, and seeing distant places just…sets me off." I tried to smile. "I'm not going to judge you."

He seemed to be persuaded. He sighed and leaned into his chair. "I'm perfectly in control. I can be the most in control super ever to live and I'll still have to wear these."

I nodded, as if I understood completely. I was still eagerly awaiting his explanation of his ability.

"Okay, I'll tell," he said reluctantly, and just as he opened his mouth to continue the teacher clapped and brought the class's attention to the front.

Dempsey seemed grateful for the distraction.

After classes, I wandered down the halls in search of Cam. His dorm door was slightly ajar, so I cautiously peered inside.

"Massie?"

I groaned internally. Of course his roommate would be there. And of course he would harangue me for hours on end. Kemp was infatuated with me. It started months ago, and an end wasn't in sight.

Kemp greeted me at the door, grinning like an idiot. "How come you're here? I thought you and Cam weren't really great friends anymore. I mean, you have that little club and all but I heard from Kristen you never really speak, and it makes me kind of sad, because you were _such_ a great team, and also"—

"Kemp," I interrupted him briskly. Kemp loved the sound of his own voice more than anything else. His ability was outrageously powerful—the power of mind control through speech—but that didn't mean he had to talk _this much._ "I need to speak with Cam. Please."

Kemp's smile dropped. "Okay. Well. He's right here." He led me into their messy dorm room, where Cam sat stiffly on his bed, chewing a pencil and staring vacantly at a math workbook.

"Hey," I greeted him softly.

He raised his head and grimaced. "Oh. Hey."

Things were still uncomfortable between us. After he saw Landon, we returned, and I tried to explain everything. In an exasperated huff, he'd taken off, and we hadn't really spoken since.

"Um, Kemp, could you give us a minute?" I asked sweetly, turning to widen my eyes at him. He looked up from pretending to read an upside down copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ (my favorite book) and licked his lips unhappily. "Okay, then," he said dejectedly, and he slouched out of the room, shutting the door slowly behind him.

I took a seat on Kemp's bed, which faced Cam's, and sighed. "Claire's in trouble."

"She always is, these days," he said noncommittally, not even looking up from his math equations.

"Cam, listen," I pleaded. "She's with Landon. And maybe Chris and Dempsey too. She's with them, all the time, and it's dangerous. I know you can talk her out of it."

"She can suppress Landon's powers, she's fine," he insisted, indolently waving the problems away without evaluating them.

"No," I protested angrily. "She's not fine. She's in trouble."

"_Listen_," Cam said abruptly, pushing the math workbook off his lap and sitting up very straight, finally allowing me some eye contact. "Landon is done. Stop worrying."

"Done?" I echoed uneasily.

"Why do you think the founders established a night patrol? The founders know he's around here. They've seen Derrick bring Claire back to her room. He flies high, but not high enough to not be seen. They know everyone who's involved, and if we start trying to help, we're screwed too."

It took me a few moments to process this. "When did this happen?" I choked out.

He sighed. "I don't know, A few days ago. I only know because Alicia told Josh she heard one of the founders thinking about it when she passed him in the hall. His office is layered with a chemical that repels abilities, so no one can sneak up and hear his thoughts, and he's rarely in the halls, so this was rare. It was lucky she heard this."

"She didn't tell me?" I couldn't control the incredulousness in my voice.

"Well you've been off trying to save everyone or something," he muttered, almost under his breath.

"Cam. What are the founders going to do?" I held my breath.

He shrugged. "Betrayal warrants proper punishment," he recited in a monotone. It was one of the 10 main guidelines of the school.

Cam was utterly useless in this situation. I stood up and left the room before I could issue a proper goodbye. Not that he deserved it, though.

I was back to Claire's dorm room. My thoughts were scattered. Not only did the French prophet see trouble with Claire's new friends, and a vicious fire with its victim deep within its flames, but also now the founders were posing a more serious dangers to her safety.

I knocked relentlessly until my impatience got the better of me and I teleported inside the room. There, gathered in the tiny room, was Claire, Landon, Dempsey and Chris. Staring at me blankly.

"What the…"

"Massie?" Dempsey said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, frantic. "I knew you were involved in this!"


	8. The Glove and the Departure

PART 7: as told by Massie (continued)

Everyone stood at the same moment, and crowded me, some angry, some trying to calm me.

I was only focused on Dempsey, and the mild betrayal I felt presently.

"And those damned gloves," I said, feeling slightly delirious. "For god's sake!" And I yanked one of the gloves off without thinking.

Instantly everyone quieted and moved away from Dempsey and me.

"Stay perfectly still Massie," Claire advised, and she was staring directly at the exposed hand.

It was completely normal, though unusually pale because he kept it hidden under thin leather.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly. "What's with the hand…?"

Dempsey slowly bent down and picked up the discarded gloves. He slid it over his exposed hand carefully and looked at me, disappointed.

"Now that…" he said, raising his eyebrows. "That was incredibly stupid."

I almost shivered at how ominous he sounded. "Sorry," I whispered. I didn't know what I was apologizing for, but it seemed like the only right thing to say.

He nodded. "Don't do that again. It's dangerous."

"Okay, so moving on," Derrick said loudly, staring directly at me. "Massie knows. What now?"

"Before you try and suck me into this guys you need to know something," I blurted before any more chaos could ensue.

I had their attention. They were all listening intently. "The founders," I began shakily, and Landon instantly flinched at mention of them, "they know."

Chris swore under his breath. Landon and Derrick exchanged looks. Claire simply looked distraught. And Dempsey, he was maintaining calmness perfectly.

"How?" Landon demanded.

I shrugged. "They're not stupid. And Derrick isn't really an inconspicuous flier apparently," I said, grimacing.

Derrick exhaled sharply and Landon and Chris shot him a look.

"Well, damn," was all Landon said. "We have to get out of here."

Derrick nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But where?"

"We aren't safe _anywhere_," Chris said grimly. "They can easily track us."

"There is one place," Claire said thoughtfully. Everyone looked to her expectantly.

"That one city, not too far from here…where supers are hated and hunted…"

"Hell no!" Derrick exclaimed. "My friend Perry, a super, he went there once because his grandparents live there, and he came back with eight fingers." He held up his hands and dropped two fingers. "_Eight!"_

"Foster City hates supers, Claire," Dempsey said. "If anyone knew we had abilities, it would be mayhem."

"Well then we wouldn't let them know," she said, in an _isn't-it-obvious?_ tone. "Besides, it's the only place the founders and their people won't follow us into. Even the founders are afraid of Foster City."

"Well I know where I'm going," Chris said evenly, and he was already starting towards the door. "Home. They won't bother with me if I'm split from the group of true offenders." He stopped at the door and saluted his former conspirators. "I couldn't imagine the founders braving the cold of Northern Alaska just to catch me."

He was out the door in seconds.

"Do you think he'll actually leave?" I asked, shocked.

Landon shrugged. "Yeah. Chris is a coward. If I know him, he'll have hijacked a car by 9 o'clock tonight and started driving."

"It's fine anyway," Dempsey said. "Chris wasn't really part of this. If he's with us, he's in danger."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

"Well I'm coming," I announced suddenly.

Everyone looked to me in surprise.

I tried to stifle the remorse that was building up inside of me. It was a stupid decision, but I couldn't let my friends run off to Foster City without my help.

"Really?" Claire sounded genuinely impressed with my bravery. "That's so…"

"Chivalrous," Derrick intercepted, grinning.

"Well, I may as well help, since you'll need it," I said, rolling my eyes, trying to seem nonchalant.

Even Landon allowed himself to smile a little. "Thanks," he mouthed.

And suddenly it was all worth it.


	9. The Road Trip and the Bearded Pursuer

PART 8: as told by Landon

Now, consider my current situation—my _ordeal _if you will.

Here I am, nearly six feet tall, crammed into a van with a sagging roof with a whole gaggle of lovely people I trust as much as I trust a recycling bin. Where are we headed? Foster City, commonly referred to as "the city that hates supers." Who are we? Supers. Moreover, we were refuge supers, running from the cold super authorities, the founders.

Now, it is entirely understandable that I was slightly irritable. Especially because Claire had this strange tendency to squeal shrilly with excitement every time we passed something remotely interesting.

So, consider this, and attempt to understand it: Massie was _angry_ at _me_.

"It was your decision to come," I said exasperatedly. "Stop acting like it's my fault."

"It is your fault!" Massie shot back immediately. "You're so careless! Why would you let Derrick fly so low?"

"He's not my servant, I don't give him strict orders and assume he'll obey them, then pat him on the head when he comes home." I rolled my eyes, and turned away to watch the passing scenery, which should've been an obvious indication of the end of our argument. Have I ever spoken of Massie's stubborn persistence?

"Shut up! This serious!" She hit my shoulder for emphasis.

"Would everyone just shut the hell up?" Dempsey shouted irately from the driver's seat. He was nearly shaking with anxiety. "I've never driven before. And since you _had_ to steal the car with the faulty brake signals, I can't guarantee we'll make it out of this drive unscathed unless everyone's quiet."

Massie exhaled sharply and leaned back into the must-scented back seat.

Derrick had been sleeping soundly in the back, beside Massie, for many hours now. It was my guess that he was pretending, as to avoid involving himself in the arguments that ensued as soon as we screeched out of the school's driveway at 2 in the morning.

Claire had quieted after Dempsey's outburst. But she still shook a little with suppressed excitement every time we passed by a building or a ranch inhabited by cows and sheep.

I sighed and leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. The bright early morning light was beginning to illuminate the dull shapes of colors of the countryside. Meaning we weren't escaping under the cover of darkness anymore. We were entirely visible, and conspicuous in our stolen car.

"We should've told Cam we were leaving," Claire said randomly, and her mood changed entirely. Her voice was sullen and the countryside now longer amused her. "He would've come. He's really powerful, you know? And brave."

Massie and I laughed contemptuously, and then stopped abruptly when we realized we'd agreed on something.

"Cam is anything but brave," Massie stated mildly. "He flat out refused to help me save you Claire, so don't speak of him so well. He doesn't deserve it."

Claire shook her head vigorously. "I know him. He's a good person."

"What a touching display of loyalty," I murmured under my breath. I was slightly relieved when no one had heard my bitter comment. Massie and I were already feuding. I didn't need Claire against me too.

Derrick muttered some nonsense sleepily in the passenger's seat then turned to survey his fellow riders. "Food?" he said, his dark eyes wide with hope.

"No," Dempsey said firmly, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. "It's 7 am. The founders might be looking for us. We eat at dark."

"But that's like 14 hours!" Derrick protested, shielding himself from the blinding sunlight.

"Deal with it," Dempsey said, visibly reveling in his newfound authority that came along with being the driver.

A few hours passed and no one spoke a word. At one point Massie reached into her luggage behind her and produced a sleek Ipod. I didn't see the reason in bringing redundant technology along. It would only die after a few indulgent hours.

Later, Derrick tried to start a sing-along by humming a few bars of a vaguely familiar pop song. Dempsey swung his right fist at Derrick's face without tearing his eyes away from the road, so Derrick accepted that as a warning.

"SO," Claire said loudly just as the much-consulted clock at the radio struck 4 pm. "Let's have a friendly conversation," she suggested. "No bickering, no disagreements."

"I only disagree if someone says something stupid," Massie said smoothly, looking meaningfully at me.

"I only say something stupid if I'm trying to piss someone off who deserves it," I countered, shrugging.

"Wow," Claire murmured sarcastically, glancing at the clock. "What was that, like half a second of pleasant conversation and you two already poisoned it?" She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "These petty arguments must be locked away until we can afford to be a broken team." She raised an eyebrow, inviting us, or daring us rather to concur.

There were no responses, so she continued talking. "So, I like stories. Let's tell some stories. I was about twelve when I discovered my ability. How bout you guys?"

"Fourteen," I grumbled unenthusiastically.

"Thirteen," Massie offered.

"Fifteen," Derrick said.

Dempsey was too intent on driving to participate in the conversation.

"Okay, so how did it happen?"

"This conversation sucks," Derrick complained.

Claire looked genuinely hurt. "I was just trying to break the silence." She turned away and watched trees pass by at a dizzying speed.

Silence ensued.

Then, Dempsey became more anxious then usual. "Whoa whoa whoa," he said. "What's that? That car has been tailing us for fifteen minutes."

In tandem, the group looked over their shoulders at the road behind us. A single red, beaten up jeep was behind us. The driver was obscured from view by the dark windshield.

Derrick swore under his breath. "Well, Dempsey, now is the time to flaunt your mad driving skills. Get us away from the red jeep."

"I'll try," Dempsey said gravely, and he kicked the car into a ridiculous speed and sped off. The Jeep followed obediently. Only it seemed faster.

Everyone was in hysterics.

"Massie, get us the hell out of here!" Claire cried.

"I can only teleport a couple people at a time! And I've never been anywhere near Foster City!" Massie explained in a rush. "I can't do it. I can't even teleport Dempsey, I can't touch his skin!"

"I'm outta here," Derrick announced, rolling down his window and unbuckling his seat belt.

"NO." Dempsey snagged Derrick's shirt and tugged him towards him. "They could have guns."

"Good point," Derrick admitted and he hastily rolled up the window.

The jeep was directly beside us now. I recognized it as one of the founders' henchmen's car. We fearfully looked over at the driver. The windows were tinted, but we could make out a bearded man with sunglasses.

He smiled at us.

It was chaotic then, because we were assured that this man was trying to catch us, and potentially kill us. Everyone was shouting and writhing in their seats. Dempsey was swerving about, trying to get ahead, or at least frighten the pursuer off with his manic driving.

"Massie, teleport Claire and Landon out of here," Dempsey ordered. "Derrick can fly away."

"No, Landon!" Massie replied heatedly. "What about you?"

"There really isn't time to debate this," he said, eerily calm. "It's do or die."

He pulled into an abandoned gas station parking lot and watched as the jeep slowly followed us in. "There. No motion, now it'll be easy to teleport."

"What are you doing?" I demanded incredulously. "Now we're trapped!"

"We have a teleporter, Landon!" Dempsey cried, losing his temper. "There's no _trapped _when you have a teleporter!"

Massie seized my wrist with clammy hands, and motioned for Claire to hold out hers. "We'll go to my hometown." She glanced up at Dempsey and Derrick. "Meet you at Foster City, two days."

Dempsey nodded emphatically. "Go. Just go."

I felt an unnatural pressure, and Dempsey and Derrick and the car and our pursuer disappeared.

PART 8: (continued) as told by Cam

Dempsey and Derrick emerged from the car, stoic faced, to greet me.

I smiled and shut the Jeep door enthusiastically, relieved that I'd found them.

Then Dempsey took off his gloves, and the strides he took towards me became very aggressive.

"Whoa, Dempsey?" I said uneasily. "Calm down, buddy."

He stopped mid stride, and his expression changed. "Cam?"

I removed my disguise, a fake beard, sunglasses, and a baseball hat, warily. "You didn't know it was me?" That would explain the erratic driving. I thought he was just an awful driver.

Derrick started laughing hysterically behind Dempsey. He collapsed and started rolling around in the dirt.

"Hell no…" Dempsey said slowly. "We thought you were a henchman sent by the founders, coming to kill us." He jammed his hands into his jean pockets thoughtfully. "We thought when you smiled at us, it was like, a sick, evil smile."

I frowned. "I smiled at you because I thought you knew it was me…"

Dempsey gritted his teeth together, not quite accepting the news as well as Derrick. "You are wearing a disguise, Cam, and your windows are tinted."

"Oh this? You thought it was a good disguise?" I smiled, pointing to the disguise in my right hand. "I was just being cautious, just in case the founders sent out people to look for you and saw me in their stolen car, you know, needed to protect my identity."

Derrick continued to laugh.

Dempsey's shoulder sloped, and he sighed, over and over, still registering the shocking new plot development. "I thought we were going to die." He smiled oddly, then frowned again and added, "we sent Massie, Landon and Claire away. They teleported, because I didn't think we'd survive."

"Oh god," I said flatly, annoyed. I'd mostly come in hope to rescue Claire. "That's not good."

"Cam, why are you here anyways?" Derrick said, regaining composure and standing.

"Massie cam to me last night, looking for help, to save Claire from you two, and Landon," I explained. "I refused, because I underestimated the size of this issue. Then I went to Massie's room and she was gone. Claire was missing too, and you, Dempsey," I said, nodding at him. "So I went to see Isabelle, the French girl who sees the future, and asked where you were. She told me it was hazy, because it was fresh future, very new. But she saw Landon in the center of Foster City, in a crowd. Claire was there too, but not near Landon, and Massie and you two, and….me."

"So I decided to head over to Foster City," I concluded, shrugging nonchalantly as if the concept of entering the city made me want to curl into the fetal position and squeeze my eyes shut. "At around 3, I finished packing, got Chris to help me jack a car, and got some maps from a local gas station. I knew you'd take a car, because how else would you get there. I know Massie can only teleport two people at once, and she's never been near Foster City."

Derrick and Dempsey exchanged looks. "Wow," Dempsey said. "And just earlier they were saying you weren't brave. You sure as hell proved them wrong."

I was partly flattered, partly offended. "Who said I wasn't brave?" I demanded, frowning.

"Nevermind," Dempsey muttered, returning to his car. Derrick followed.

"Hell, now they're all the way in Massie's hometown, wherever that is," he said as they climbed in.

I hurried to the car. "I'll tail you," I said. "For the whole drive."

"Fine by me," Dempsey responded as he slid into his seat belt. "Just don't attract attention."

"Sure thing," I said, climbing into the red jeep. "Just keep a steady pace," I called as we started up the engines, knowing very well my car could easily surpass his in speed.

We pulled out of the empty driveway and continued along the highway. This time, Dempsey drove normally, at a healthy speed, without the insane swerving. I was slightly relieved that it had been intentional.


	10. The Evil Aunt and the Second Departure

PART 8 (continued): as told by Massie

A familiar scent greeted us when we materialized. Lavender—the scent of my home. We were standing, the three of us, in my pristine, immaculate bedroom. So much I wanted to collapse onto my bed with the teddy bear that lay there presently, crying and crying and praying to god Dempsey and Derrick could triumph over the adversaries the founders had sent their way in the shape of a bearded man.

"Massie?" Landon touched my shoulder, tentatively. "Don't be freaked out. They're strong. They can beat him."

"Yeah," I whispered, then took a deep breath and straightened, glancing around. "I really hope my parents aren't home."

We wandered through the hallways of the second floor, checking rooms. The house was empty. I was relieved and dismayed at the same time. I hadn't seen my parents in three months, and a reassuring hug courtesy of my mother couldn't hurt, even though I would have to explain quite a lot. I wondered silently if Jose was here, or around here. Jose was my aunt, a truly evil woman who lived in the notorious Foster City with her husband; a politician who attained votes from bitter Foster City citizens only because his campaign promoted the abolishment of supers. When I had discovered my ability, I wasn't hesitant to share it with my parents. They weren't particularly happy, but they didn't reject me like many families did. Then Jose had come to stay, after her husband traveled to Europe to promote his anti-super campaigns. She detested me. She called me horrible names, and told me I wasn't supposed to exist. She struck me, once, when my parents weren't home. She truly loathed me, and I returned the resentment happily. Jose stayed right until my departure, about a year after the discovery. When I returned for thanksgiving and Christmas and summer, and the odd weekend, Jose was always there, staring at me from across the room with those cold, beady eyes.

"How's the freak school treating you, Macy?" (She purposefully mispronounced my name) she would ask indignantly, whenever we were alone together. She would concentrate on the hideous scarf she was currently knitting then glance up and add, "You should come to Foster City with me, see how people think of you there." Then she would laugh.

I was nearly seething at the recollections as we stepped into the kitchen. All was empty and quiet.

"Can we eat?" Landon asked softly. It was funny how a near death experience had suddenly smoothed the uneven grounds below us.

"Of course," I answered automatically.

Claire and Landon raided the cupboards while I stared out the window at the courtyard contemplatively. I was only a teleporter, but some additional sense told me we weren't alone.

"Guys, hurry," I said. I found my mother's car keys easily and stuffed them into my pocket. "Pack some food and I'll go find some clothes for us upstairs. We're not safe here."

It takes a really strong unpleasant aura to make someone say that about their own home. But I felt vulnerable here.

Just as I hurried down the stairs with a duffel bag stuffed with essentials, I heard a car pull into the driveway. My heart skipped a beat.

"Out the back door," I ordered urgently, pushing them along. We slipped out hurried along the side of the house.

"It wasn't all bad," I heard my mother said, and I felt a sting in my eyes. I so much wanted to run out to embrace her. But the second voice discouraged me completely.

"I tell you Mary-Anne, any theatre production that thinks nudity is alright cannot be deemed theatre." Aunt Jose. Bitter as usual, and hateful.

I peered out from behind the wall. My mother was helping Jose climb the steps. I wanted to laugh. Jose was older than I remembered. She was only in her late fifties, but she wasn't exactly in good shape.

"That's Jose, I bet," Landon whispered behind me.

I told Landon about Jose back when we were good friends, dating, whatever the proper title would be for our messy relationship.

"Yes," I whispered.

My mother and Jose had taken the convertible, and the car keys to the pick up truck, which my family seldom used, were sweaty in my palm.

The door closed.

We made a mad dash for the pick up truck.

Landon and Claire threw their bags into the back and followed quickly. I stepped into the driver's seat and willed myself to remember those few optional driving lessons I'd taken back at the school.

I jammed the key into the ignition and the truck roared to life. "Shut up!" I hissed at it uselessly. I jerked the car into reverse.

Then my mother appeared in the doorway, flanked by Jose. First, she seemed angry and afraid. When she registered who was driving, she became desperate and sad, and flung herself from the doorway towards the car.

Jose squinted at me, shaking her head slowly.

"Massie! Massie!" My mother shouted, cringing as she made her way across the gravel driveway in bare feet. "Massie, stop! Come home!"

I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salt in my mouth. "Mom," I called out to her, as the window slid down. "I can't. Were in trouble. We'll return the car, don't worry."

"I don't care about the car!" She protested, and then she was crying too. "Come back, Massie! Please!"

Claire and Landon were silent behind me.

"Mom…" I said, and I knew I had to go. I pulled out of the driveway, just as she reached us. I pushed the car into drive, willing the tears to stop before I was temporarily blinded and unable to drive.

"Massie!" she said one last time, desperately when she realized that I wasn't staying.

I didn't want to look at her dejected form in the rear view mirror. And I certainly didn't want to catch Landon's or Claire's sympathetic eyes while doing so.

It was done. I'd successfully broken her heart—and stolen her car.

I couldn't have stayed though. There was too much at stake. And Jose was there. Dempsey and Derrick needed us. There wasn't time for tearful reunion, or explanations. If I succumbed to the comfort of my home I'd never be able to leave. And who knew if the founders would search my house before scouring the entire country?

"Massie," Landon said, very quietly. He sounded like a different person without the sarcastic, snide edge to his voice.

"Yes Landon?" I was having trouble suppressing the tears, but I managed an audible response.

"Thank you," he said.

I nodded. "Anytime," I whispered.

. . ….. . …. . .

REVIEW! I'm leaving my house for two whole months and will be living in the great Canadian wilderness, obviously without computer access, on Friday! So I only have a few days to wrap this up! Reviews are motivation!


	11. The Arrival and the Concierge

(Thanks to Goodbadandeverythininbetween for her awesomely amazing ongoing support and optimistic reviews! As requested, an incredibly hot duel between Landon and Dempsey will take place in the final chapter! But I can't guarantee that Dempsey will win!)

A brief foreword: the Chris with technological powers in this story is not Chris Abely, it's Chris Plovert, just to clear things up. The Chris you are about to meet is Chris Abely, a different Chris! (The first Chris ran off to Alaska, remember?)

PART 9: as told by Dempsey

We had successfully arrived in Foster City.

Before our departure, we briefly discussed accommodation options. There was a cheap hotel called _Foster Night-in _that was secluded from the rest of the city, in a deep dark, crime-contaminated neighborhood located at the southern tip of Foster City. We would stay there until we devised a better, sturdier plan.

As we drove through the city, we became very, very nervous.

Just seeing the people was unnerving, commuting from work with briefcases, chatting with friends on the sidewalks. They all seemed like decent people; aside from the fact nearly all the residents of Foster City shared a potent resentment for supers.

"There it is," Derrick said, pointing at a bleak, crumbling building sitting on top of a hill littered with garbage and discarded car parts.

I grimaced at the sight of it. "Charming," I commented unhappily as I drove tentative circles around the building.

"Doesn't seem safe to me," Derrick said in a low voice.

I pulled the car into park and turned to face him. "It's better than sleeping on the streets though, eh?"

We emerged from the car warily. Cam had parked directly behind us, and as he jogged to greet us he removed his effective disguise and shoved it into a small backpack. "This is…" he paused, glancing around, "not really what I expected. Aren't you more organized than this?"

I gritted my teeth together impatiently. "Our arrangements were made on short notice. Besides," I added as I threw open the trunk and slung a few duffel bags over my shoulder, "we want to stay in the darker, quieter parts of the city."

Derrick removed the remainder of luggage from the car and slammed the door shut. "Let's go."

"Now, remember," I whispered to them as we drew near the entrance. "Absolutely no power usage, unless we're in danger. No one can know who we are. Or _what_ we are."

Cam and Derrick nodded solemnly.

The hotel front desk was lit by a dull, fluorescent light, which was swaying back and forth shakily from the ceiling as the tenants in the room above participated in some violent, noisy, rowdy activities.

The boy at the desk looked up and smiled weakly. He was young, maybe a few years older than me, with curly black hair and narrow green eyes. He lay down his pencil and folded his hands on his coffee stained desk. "May I help you?" he asked in a professional tone.

"Um, yeah, we need a room with six beds or so," I said, somewhat shyly. Every aspect of Foster City intimidated, even its lower middle class hotel employees.

"Okay." The boy, whose shiny gold nametag read _Chris _clattered away on his keyboard and narrowed his eyes at the screen. "How many days?"

I exchanged looks with Derrick and Cam. "We don't know. More than a week though."

Chris looked up, frowning, at us. "Where are your parents?"

I swallowed. "It's kind of a graduation trip. We're like, declaring our independence or something." I lowered my eyes and prayed he would buy it.

Chris tapped a pencil against his teeth thoughtfully, then shrugged and continued to organize things on his computer.

I sighed in relief under my breath. Already we were facing difficulties, lucky for us this ordeal wasn't so hard to overcome. Just a minor case of disbelief.

Chris handed us a key, "room 203," he said. "Good luck."

I frowned and took the key.

Our room was as dismal as the exterior of the building. Bleak, colorless, and untidy. The maids hadn't taken the effort to clean out the bathroom. Or maybe they'd forgotten.

Derrick sat on the edge of one of the beds, sighing. "This is better than the Hilton," he said jokingly, but there was no trace of humor on his face. Just cold, raw sarcasm, no intention to cheer us up.

We watched television for a while, but the anti-super commercials started to freak us out, so we just lay on the beds, talking about the founders and the school and if Landon, Massie and Claire were okay.

Then Chris burst in through the door, apparently having eavesdropped on our tell-tale conversations, shouting, "I knew it! I knew it!"

I was the first one up, already struggling with the Velcro on my gloves.

"You!" Chris exclaimed, red faced, jabbing a finger in my direction. "I knew what you were the second you walked in!"

Derrick hurried to shut the door behind Chris, as to not involve other people.

I didn't know how to respond to Chris's accusation. I could approach it with a sturdy, well acted out denial, or, with violence and aggression. And I had already taken my gloves off, so I figured violence and aggression was the better choice.

"We don't want any trouble," I said calmly, raising my hands in the air. "We're not here to hurt anyone."

Chris was still panting heavily from the excitement of his discovery. "You have to leave. It's not me, I mean, my boss…she'll…she hates supers, I mean loathes them," Chris rambled in a rush. "She has a shot gun in the back. She'll use it."

"We can handle ourselves," I assured him. I didn't understand this concierge's motives. Did he want to help us? Because the manner in which he entered our room suggested otherwise.

"No, you can't," he insisted. "You're so young. Look at you?" he was near hysterical with frustration. "Unless you all have the convenient power of not-dying I suggest you leave this city. Immediately."

"Wait a second," I said. I walked towards Chris, inspecting him. He cringed away when I advanced. I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not human, are you?"

He sniffed. "Of course I am."

"No," I said, firmly. "_You're a super_." I was sure of it. Since when did residents of Foster City express sympathy and compassion towards supers? And there was something about it. I always had a faint sense of people's abilities, whether they were dangerous, defensive, physical, psychic… And I had the slightest sense that Chris had an ability, a powerful one too…

"How dare you accuse me of that," he spat. "I live in _Foster City."_

"That may be," I said. "But that's your only defense. You don't deny it with anything else, but the sole fact you live here. That's why you live here, isn't it? You think you're safe from those types of accusations because you live in Foster City?"

Chris was silent. "That was stupid," he said softly. He looked at Cam, then Derrick, then back at me again, with those shifty green eyes. "Now I'll have to kill all of you."

He lunged without further warning. I knew his power at physical contact immediately. It was strength. And _hell_, he was strong.

He was preparing to throw me at, or _out _rather, the window when I grasped his bare arm with my exposed hand. He shrieked in pain and crumpled immediately. But the strength he had must've enabled him some kind of incredible resistance to pain, because he was standing in seconds, more determined than ever. He seized my elbow, covered with the cloth of my shirt, and with hardly any effort tossed me at the wall. The impact was horrible. But the landing was worse. I knew I couldn't fight anymore. I watched through one eye as the battle ensued.

Derrick was useless in this kind of fight, but Cam was the perfect opponent for Chris. I wanted to laugh when Chris threw a bone breaking punch at Cam's chest and it slid right through him. But it would've hurt too much to laugh. _Oh the irony,_ I thought numbly as I lay there in immense pain.

Cam's advances were weak and sloppy, but he never failed to evade Chris's attacks. This battle was hardly progressing. But Chris was tiring. And once he was weary and worn, Derrick could enter the fight without having to fear Chris's deadly strength.

I tested my legs. I was sure I could stand, but I was afraid Chris would launch a second attack if he saw I wasn't really down. If he did, I would probably die.

Cam slipped up. He forgot to phase as he was concentrating on the perfect punch aimed at Chris's face. Chris kneed him in the ribs, and Cam fell soundlessly. The ceiling was low, so Derrick had no advantage. But he threw himself anyways at Chris, doing little harm. Chris had him pinned and struggling with the last remnants of consciousness in seconds. The defeat of my teammates had me up and running, cringing through mind-numbing pain, towards my enemy.

"Back for more?" Chris said, wiping the tiniest of wounds from his cheek, the only genuine hurt Cam and Derrick had inflicted upon him. "Now I know not to let you touch me, you sneaky bastard." He grinned.

He reminded me of someone from the school when he smiled like that—Layne. Then it dawned on me. Layne had always spoken of an older brother who lived in Foster City so highly. She was so proud of him for being "conniving" enough to live there secretly, even though he was a super like her.

"Layne!" I blurted out just as Chris raised his hand to strike me.

He stopped, and lowered his arm hesitantly.

I cradled my bleeding right arm in my left and said, "Layne, she's your sister, right? What would she think? She's so proud. She thinks you're so brave and good for being able to live here. What would she say if you killed us all?"

Chris scowled. "Don't try your mind tricks on me, you"—

"No mind tricks," I insisted. "I'm just asking you a simple question: what would she think of this?" I motioned with my good hand to Cam and Derrick, motionless on the floor.

Chris lowered his head and sniffled a little, in defeat or remorse. I capitalized his rare moment of weakness and lunged, grabbing his neck with my good hand.

He gasped and clutched weakly at my hand, slowly dropping to the ground. After ten seconds, he fell unconscious.

I leaned down to inspect him. "Sorry, buddy," I whispered.

I slipped on my gloves and helped Cam and Derrick up, shook them from their unconsciousness. "We gotta go," I told them. "It's not safe here."

PART 9 (continued): as told by Landon

The hotel concierge did not greet us kindly. In fact, I suspected this was in indeed the worst part of the city, judging by the poor concierge's state. He was pale, shaky, and there was a little blood on his cheek.

Massie, Claire and I approached the desk slowly, exchanging nervous glances.

"May I help you?" the concierge asked weakly. He didn't meet our eyes.

"Yes," I said. "Um, have two guys about our age checked in recently?"

The concierge jumped up and backed against the wall. "No, not again!" he pleaded. "He's not here, is he? There was so much pain!" he exclaimed hysterically.

"He's insane," Massie whispered, amazed.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "He's just shaking off the after-effects of Dempsey's death touch." I leaned towards the guy intently and asked in a calm voice, "did a guy about my height do this to you? With bronze hair and green eyes?"

The guy nodded vigorously. "Keep him away."

"Where did he go?"

The guy shook his head. "I don't know. I woke up, and they were gone."

I sighed and turned to my travel companions, disappointed. "Well at least we know they're alive. I wonder how they took care of the bearded man?"

"There were three, you know, not two," the concierge added, calming some. "One was very good at dodging my attacks, he phased right through them…"

"Attacks?" Massie echoed incredulously. "You attacked them?"

I leaned over the desk and seized the guy's collared shirt, lifting him several inches off the floor. "You attacked our friends?" I asked in a low voice.

"It was merely self-defense!" the concierge gasped. "There's so many of you! And the boy who has so much pain in him, he _knew_!"

"Knew what?" Claire prompted, frowning. "And," she turned to Massie and me, "_Cam's here?"_ The concept absolutely delighted her.

The concierge struggled to free himself, ignoring the question. "There's so many of you," he repeated as he pulled away from me. "It's so dangerous."

"Landon," Massie whispered in my ear. "Maybe you should pretend you aren't _that_ strong," she suggested mildly. "We're trying to keep a low profile here."

"Oh I think there's more to"—I paused, squinting at the narrow print on the concierge's nametag, "Chris than meets the eyes." I released him, and he scrambled towards the corner of the room. "For one thing, no amount of strength will ever shock him." I winked at him, and left it at that. He knew I knew, and that was enough to frighten him into never telling anyone of our little visit.

"Chris," Claire repeated thoughtfully. "You aren't Layne's brother are you?"

I grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the door, alongside Massie. "No time to lose, we got two, possibly three people to track down."

We climbed into the car and began talking animatedly all at once. Massie and I were concerned with reasonable things like the fact that we had lost our friends in Foster City, or that they'd been attacked, but Claire just gushed over how Cam had come after all.

The truck roared to life, at Massie's command, and we pulled out of the driveway.

Claire turned and watched the fading hotel in the distance. "I think that was Layne's brother," she announced in a puzzled tone.

"It's a small world," Massie replied flatly.


	12. Some Solidarity and the Kiss

(Yeah, yeah, I know I'm updating like mad. But I really have to finish this soon! Enjoy!)

PART 9 (continued): as told by Jose (Massie's Aunt)

"Despicable things," I spat indignantly as I paced the wide confines of the mayor's office. "They're here. They stole my sister's car and raced off into the sunset. I knew they would come here. When did you say they were spotted?"

The mayor, a man I didn't particularly like but admired his determination towards the abolishment of supers, shuffled some nondescript papers on his desk and cleared his throat. "A concierge from a hotel in the south part of the city reported six supers just last night. He said they attacked him without warning or reason. He identified two as being female, one dark haired, and the other blonde. There were three dark haired males, two very tall, and a small blonde male."

"That's her," I said firmly. "That's my niece. The rat. She stole a black pick up truck with the license plate AVMN 766." The mayor scribbled down the information as I spoke. "I don't like talking about her disability, but I had to attain precious information," I said, liking the authoritative tone I was using. "I asked her mother, and she said that Massie's a teleporter. I'm not sure about the others but rest-assured they're dangerous." I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to the mayor. "Well? What will you do to them?"

"I don't know Josephine, I'm a little busy to handle six teenage supers running amok in the city," he answered, exasperated. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. "Would you take care of it? I'm sure the public would approve of my entrusting this ordeal in someone who has partaken in city council meetings and such before. You're enough part of this city to handle serious issues when I'm swamped with crime boosts in the northern parts." His phone rang and he snatched it up. "Yes, hello? Another death?" he swore profusely. "Fine, send me them, I'll deal with this tonight." He replaced the phone on the receiver gingerly. "Yes, It would be good if you handled this. I'll give you two thousand dollars to catch and take care of them, you can use some of my SWAT team men if you'd like to track them down."

I smiled, satisfied. "Thank you, Mayor, for this opportunity." I left the room quickly and eagerly. I was amazed at the coincidental timing of everything. My reject niece appearing at home a day before I leave to return to Foster City, then she ends up here too? I shook my head, smirking. If only she knew fate wasn't on her side this time.

PART 9: (continued) as told by Massie

We found them at a nondescript hotel in the western parts of the city. Landon had once obtained the power of clairvoyance a longtime ago, so he was capable of pinpointing people's exact location through thought. It had taken him hours in the car to perfect it, but it was surely worth it.

There was a quiet celebration in the cramped hotel room. We hugged and exchanged stories of our tumultuous adventures. Claire was virtually attached to Cam. She simply wouldn't leave his side.

Derrick laughingly explained the confusion about the bearded men (AKA Cam in disguise) and then began retelling the story of Chris, which was a grim story, but somehow he incorporated humor into the recap.

Dempsey looked particularly beaten up, so I tended to his wounds. Claire was cooing over Cam's sore ribs, and Derrick jealously made a plea for medical attention when he saw his friends being fussed over.

"How long did you maintain physical contact with Chris?" I asked curiously as I dabbed a wet towel at Dempsey's swollen left hand.

He winced, and tried to pull his hand away.

"Ah ah ah," I scolded him, reaching to reposition his hand, then reconsidering. He was like an uncorked grenade with his gloves off.

"Ten seconds," he answered. "Ten seconds more and he would've been dead. Ten is enough to seriously mess someone up for a while. Landon took about six, but you know him…" he said, trailing off. "He's got like twenty powers to protect him and to heal him afterwards." He managed a weak laugh.

We sent Claire on a mission to retrieve food. Cam accompanied her, to her delight. We didn't bring much money, but Claire insisted she could temporarily abandon integrity, turn invisible and steal food.

When she returned with an assortment of goodies, we absolutely ravaged our portions, having lived off dissatisfying beef jerky and vitamin water during out road trips.

As we finished up eating, Landon explained the next step. "We obviously aren't safe here. We may have to go to a different country. I was thinking northern Canada. They treat supers well there, they kind of accept them, almost." He looked up expectantly, surveying reactions. "What do you guys think?"

"I'm okay anywhere, as long as there's adventure," Derrick said, smiling deviously.

"I think it's a good idea," Cam offered. His arm was slung over Claire's shoulder. For some reason I found this vaguely annoying.

We planned out our next step. When we went to sleep that night, Cam and Claire suspiciously insisting on sharing a bed (there were three double beds) meaning I had to share a bed with Dempsey, which was just incredibly terrifying considering he didn't like sleeping with his gloves on. At around midnight I couldn't handle the suspense and retreated to the bathtub with a pillow and a towel as a surrogate blanket.

The next morning we prepared for departure. We tipped the maids generously, and then hobbled down the hotel halls with our cumbersome loads, feeling uncannily optimistic.

And of course, something horrific and exciting _had_ to happen, since we were supers and this was Foster City.

As soon as we entered the lobby we knew we were screwed. Gangs of heavily armed SWAT troops were wandering around the lobby. They were waiting for us. Outside the hotel, I could see reporters and video cameras hoisted on shoulders.

"Stop!" I hissed, backing up into the hallway. My friends followed, wide eyed. "We're so screwed."

"How do they know we're here?" Claire said wearily.

"No time to dwell on that. But I'm guessing it's Chris's doing," I said as I led them back down the hallway. "Back entrance escape route."

"Are you kidding me?" Landon demanded. "It's SWAT. Do you think they're stupid enough to let the back entrance be unguarded?"

I stopped short and turned. "Okay, I can take two people to safety."

"But you can't take Dempsey," Claire protested. "I know this sounds cheesy and stupid and it's not the time for this, but we really have to stay together." She glanced around at us, hard faced and resolute. "We're a team. And we can't keep having a few of us teleport out of here when things get rough. Especially because Dempsey can never have that luxury."

Dempsey nodded his thanks to her, and I felt like a selfish idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

"So what? We run into the crowd screaming and hope we make it out of the city?" Landon raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

"No. We try to explain," Dempsey said. "We're not bad people. We just have to let them know."

He began walking doggedly towards the lobby.

"Stop Dempsey!" I called out quietly. "This isn't how to handle things!"

I looked over his shoulder. "I don't see an alternative."

Derrick shrugged. "We can try," he said, and he took off in a light jog after his friend.

Cam and Claire were close at their heels.

I looked at Landon. He looked at me.

"We're so dead," I whispered.

"So, if we die…" Landon looked down at his feet. "Then that would suck, because you know, I'm a total lip virgin."

I laughed at the total ridiculousness of it. "We're about to die and you're worried about that?"

He shrugged and raised his arms in a defensive kind of gesture. "Just sayin'. I mean, this is kind of a big moment and it's being ruined by the fact that I've never even"—

"Oh shut up," I said, smiling, and I stood on my tiptoes and granted his wish.

He pulled away after a minute or so and smiled boyishly. "Okay. Time to meet our fate." He grasped my hand, and I was overwhelmed by how different he was when death was looming above us. "Let's do it."

We walked down the hallway at a leisurely pace. It was chaotic in the lobby, we could hear shouts and accusations and guns clicking in preparation for some kind of outburst but here we were, two former friends, current enemies, grasping hands as we hurried to greet our imminent fate.


	13. The Clever Guards and the Demonstration

(This is the final countdown. One of the last chapters…)

PART 10: as told by Claire

The air was dank and bitingly cool. I spluttered and coughed when I woke, lifting myself weakly off the cold floor.

"Hello?" I called out, and my voice resounded off the walls and sent ricocheting echoes in all directions.

I heard someone groan nearby—Cam. "Cam!" I exclaimed, crawling towards the sound of his voice. It was dark. I could barely distinguish Cam's motionless form, directly in front of me now.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"That didn't go so well, did it?" he said doubtfully.

I shook my head. "Not well at all."

Essentially, Dempsey had tried to persuade the armed men into giving him a minute to speak to the crowd. The reporters and journalists had begged rabidly for the SWAT team to consent this request, considering it would make the story twice as interesting, but the team refused. They'd pointed their tranquilizer guns, loaded with heavy sedatives, and aimed at us. That was the last I remembered.

I moved slowly around the room on my hands and knees, searching for the others. I located Massie and Dempsey, unconscious in the corner, slumped against the wall. Derrick was at the other side of the room, snoring softly. When I moved towards the other side of the room in search of Landon, my head hit something—a wall, presumably. But it wasn't a wall. They were bars.

I gasped involuntarily. "We're in a prison cell!" I cried.

Now the inexplicable lack of furniture, windows and doors made sense. They'd sedated us, and then locked us up. But where was Landon?

"I feel dizzy," Cam moaned. I crawled to the center of the cell to comfort him. Minutes later the remainder of the occupants of the room woke. Massie woke with a start, which woke Dempsey beside her. Derrick's snoring ceased, and he mumbled a little before joining us in the center of the prison cell.

"We're in a jail. Aren't we?" he asked in a monotone. He seemed more irritated than afraid.

"Yes," I sighed.

Massie very quickly took note of Landon's absence. "Where's Landon?" she demanded suddenly.

"Not here," I responded, grimacing.

"Where did they take him?" She struggled to stand, and met the bars.

"Stay back!" a new voice warned. A guard came into view in the dim light. He brandished not one, but two tranquilizing guns.

"Don't try any tricks with those bars, girl," he boomed. "I know you're capable."

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," she said dryly, glancing down at Cam. "And he's not in any state to phase at the moment."

He jabbed his guns at her. "Back I said!"

Massie obeyed silently, choosing to sit beside Dempsey.

"Do you know why we're here?" I asked the guard politely.

"I'm not permitted to disclose any information on that subject," the guard recited quickly. Evidently, his superior had drilled that line into him.

"So where's our other friend?" Derrick wondered aloud.

"Stop asking questions!" the guard said sharply.

"Massie? Maybe could you help some of us out of here?" Cam asked meekly.

"Not without finding Landon," she said resolutely. "And not without Dempsey either."

Massie approached the bars, smiling devilishly. "You don't have much of a chance," she said sweetly. "There's one of you. And five of us, maybe six if we can find Landon—and we can escape pretty much anything."

To my surprise, the guard laughed. "You think there's only of me? There are twenty-nine guards surrounding this cell. I'm the only one in view, to keep the noise down."

Massie frowned. "Who's leading this operation?"

The guard stiffened and said loudly, "I'm not permitted to disclose any"—

"Okay, okay, we got that part," Derrick interrupted him briskly.

"But it's not the mayor," Massie said, perhaps to herself, as she paced back and forth between the guards. "The mayor of Foster City wouldn't be this disorganized."

"Disorganized," the guard scoffed, tightening his grip on his tranquilizer guns. "What makes you say that?"

"Incompetent guards, that's what," Massie replied smoothly. She stopped pacing and gripped the bars, pressing her face into them, watching the guard. "If you were a good guard, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The guard opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered.

Massie smiled triumphantly and turned back to us. "Now, how do we find Landon?"

"He's the only one with clairvoyance," Cam grumbled. "So we're going to have to find him the old fashioned way."

"And without being seen," Dempsey added sleepily.

"Fine by me." Massie turned to the guard, who was watching us converse intently. "You'll probably get fired for this," she warned him. He frowned. She appeared beside him soundlessly and had de-armed him in seconds. She tossed the weapons into the cell.

The guard produced a pocket-sized tazer. "I ain't that helpless," he said quietly, but the pathetic fight that ensued proved otherwise. He jabbed the tazer at Massie, who had already appeared behind him and knocked the weapon from his hand.

Massie picked it up and smiled faintly. "No, I'm pretty sure you're wrong."

She hit him over the head with the tazer and dropped it into her pocket for future use. Then she leaned over, snatched a key from his belt and tested it in the lock of the cell door.

"Well, that would've been too easy anyway," she muttered, tossing the useless key on the unconscious guard.

She planted her hands on her hips and sighed. "He doesn't have the key. I can teleport all of you out, except…"

"You can go without me," Dempsey offered, making an effort to stifle his disappointment. "Honestly."

"We'll come back for you, after we find Landon," Massie promised. One by one we were freed from the prison cell via teleportation.

Dempsey sat, dejected, in the corner, watching us make our effortless escape. "Good luck," he called out to us.

We all murmured half-hearted thanks. I could tell Masse was especially guilt-ridden about leaving Dempsey behind.

We wandered aimlessly for several minutes, through dimly lit hallways, with no guards, no security. The guard had claimed there were twenty-nine others surrounding the cell, but maybe he had been bluffing to scare us out of attempting escape.

It was the only half-clever thing he'd accomplished in his brief time guarding us.

"It doesn't make sense," Massie whispered as we progressed further, seeing only empty cells, no Landon. "Foster City isn't that stupid. They wouldn't put one guard in charge of five supers. And a stupid, idiot guard at that."

More endless hallways. More emptiness. At one point Massie offered to take us each to a safe place, away from Foster City. She offered to teleport us to a far off destination, and she could do the rescuing.

"You can't save both Landon and Dempsey all by yourself, no offense," I pointed out, though I was pleased that she was selfless and brave enough to even suggest such a thing.

Finally, we found Landon. But it wasn't as if I'd imagined.

He was in a cell, all right—but he was chained to a wall inside the cell.

"Landon!" Massie shrieked immediately. She had already appeared inside the cell.

"Get out of here," he said weakly. "Go."

"What?" Massie pulled feebly at the chains that bound him to the wall. "Why have they done this to you?"

"Massie, _go_!" he ordered her urgently.

Cam, Derrick and I watched the spectacle passively. There wasn't much we could do to help.

"Landon, what's happened?" Massie asked, finally giving up on her hopeless effort to release him from the chains.

"Massie, they've injected me with a special kind of chemical," he explained, coughing. "I don't know what they're up to, but I'm pretty sure I have an idea of what the chemical will do."

"What?" Massie demanded frantically. "What will it do?"

"It's making my powers flare up," he said. "I have…no control."

"I've heard of it," Cam interjected. "It's called Imorion. I've heard that some weak supers use it to magnify their abilities."

"I know what they're doing, Massie," Landon said softly. "They're making me dangerous. If I can't control my abilities, hell will break loose." He interrupted himself to cough. "Foster City is trying to prove just how dangerous we are."

"Impossible," she gasped.

"That's awful," I whispered.

"I heard the guards talking," Landon continued. "Some kind of display or demonstration, they're arranging it. They're clever, these people, be careful."

"Clever?" Massie repeated the word in a wry tone. "They posted one guard to defend us. And we haven't seen a single soul in the halls."

Landon laughed weakly. "That's it, don't you get it? They want you to think they're stupid and disorganized. That guard was probably _acting_."

Cam, Derrick and exchanged looks.

"That makes sense," Cam admitted, though it was clear he didn't want to say it.

Then, a line of guards marched into the hallway. Cam grabbed my hand and yanked me into the cell, along with Derrick. We pressed ourselves into the darkness of the cell, waiting and watching.

The leading guard called out a sharp order, and the line stopped right in front of the cell. The lead guard, an aged man with circular spectacles and tufts of white hair, inserted a key into the cell door and swung it open.

"Hello there!" he called out, smiling. He didn't even seem surprised that we were in Landon's cell.

He calmly unlocked Landon's chains. Landon slumped to the ground from exhaustion, but the guard caught him and began dragging him from the cell.

"Hey!" Massie cried.

Four guards stepped into the cell and quietly took hold of each one of us.

"We're all armed, so don't try anything funny," the lead guard warned.

The guard who shackled my hands and began guiding me down the hall with the other marching guards was the one who had previously guarded our cell.

He grinned deviously at me. "Would you say my performance was Oscar-worthy?" the southern drawl he once spoke with was gone. The cowardly hesitation, the stupidity, was all a portrayal.

"It's not hard to play a character you share a lot in common with," I growled indignantly.

The guard only laughed in response.

The guards marched us along the hallway until we reached an unmarked door.

"It's time to watch the fight!" the lead guard announced excitedly. Cheers followed his announcement.

We filed into the room. It was a large room, with a high ceiling, and chairs on the borders, for an audience presumably.

In the center of the room was Dempsey. Two guards flanked him. His hands were gloved and tied, and most of his skin was covered, for the guards' protection, maybe.

The guards sat us down in the chairs and took seats beside us. They pointed their guns in our faces and spoke in low voices about the consequences of attempting escape, or assault.

The Lead guard guided Landon to the center. He released him, and Landon crumpled.

"Those chemicals really got you down, eh?" the lead-guard asked laughingly.

There was a video camera set up in the far corner, aimed at the center.

I swore under my breath. I knew what was going to happen here. I didn't want to believe that Foster City's occupants could be _that_ sick and twisted.

Then a woman swept into the room, surrounded by guards. I didn't need to count how many guards there were. I knew there were twenty-nine, just as he had claimed.

The woman was Massie's aunt—Jose—the evil, bitter, anti-super woman who had abused Massie in her earlier years. I couldn't guess as to why or how she was here.

I didn't think she would go to such drastic measures to prove her animosity towards supers or Massie—or both.

"_Jose_?" Massie cried, incredulous.

Jose merely smiled at her. "Let the fight begin!"


	14. The Fire and the Loss

(I shall forewarn you, lovely readers. The last part nearly made me cry as I was writing it)

PART 10 (continued): as told by Massie

My aunt shot me a look as she took her seat. It was something between disdain and smug triumph. I could've easily appeared behind her and gladly knocked that smile right off her face. But what would that achieve? Especially with that camera watching, recording—monitoring our every movement.

The mayor entered the room, hands in pockets. A few guards met him to lead him to a seat.

"What the hell is going on?" Derrick demanded. A guard clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't interrupt the demonstration," he scolded Derrick.

I caught Claire's eye. "Teleport?" I mouthed, raising my eyebrows.

But the only one I could save was myself. There was no way I was fast enough to teleport all of us out of here. And I couldn't even touch Dempsey, let alone teleport five people at once.

She shrugged, and the guard beside her took note of our silent communications and scowled. He picked up her chair, while she still sat in it, and moved across the room.

The lights dimmed a little, and all the chatting guards went silent.

Jose stood beside Landon and Dempsey now, with no guards to protect her.

Dempsey was standing uncomfortably with his hands bound and useless. Landon seemed to be sleeping at his feet.

"Welcome, Mayor, to my demonstration," she announced. The guards applauded her heartily. The mayor glanced around with a puzzled look on his face.

"You believe that anti-super related things are no longer first priority in this city," Jose continued. "You dismissed these criminals and left the task to me because you were more concerned with crime. Well let this demonstration prove that supers _are _crime."

Jose returned to her seat.

Two guards worked to unsheathe Dempsey's hands. One of them tried to stand Landon up, but he was as limp as a rag doll.

Jose sighed heavily and stood, motioning for a gaggle of guards to come to her. They spoke intently for a few moments, and then glanced up at me.

I stiffened.

"Clearly, this boy needs an incentive," she announced, looking down scornfully at Landon.

A guard seized my shoulder and stood me up, shoving me towards the center. He held a gun at my head.

"What's your name?" Jose demanded loudly of Landon. He didn't reply.

She nudged him gingerly with her foot. "YOUR NAME," she bellowed.

Landon cringed and turned over, disorientated. "Landon," he said finally.

"Well, Landon, if you don't pick yourself up, my faithful guard here will gladly insert a tranquilizer into your good friend's brain." She smiled.

Landon squinted at me. My current position registered in his mind, and he was upright in seconds. "Let her go," he commanded firmly.

"Not until you fight, as arrange," Jose said, giving Landon a little shove towards Dempsey. "The cameras are watching, as is the mayor," she added, lowering her voice. "If people don't believe you're savage, as I know you to be, then Foster City will become a neutral city once again. A super-accepting city. And I just cannot have that."

"I'm not fighting him," Landon said resolutely. "You can't make me."

"But I can make him fight you," Jose said mysteriously.

And then Dempsey was on Landon.

I shouted at them to stop, struggling against the adamant grip of my captor, but Dempsey was strangely determined. He wasn't himself. Something was controlling him.

His hands were at Landon's neck. Landon kicked, and Dempsey flew several feet away from the impact, landing with a sickening crack on the floor. The guards cheered.

"Those chemicals did some good work," Jose said, smiling sickly. She looked at me. "Which one do you want to win, Massie? I think it'll be mighty interesting to see a violent death, inflicted by the one on chemicals. But it'll be equally as nice to see that other boy get his hands on our chemically induced boy, and see him die slowly at his touch…" her eyes were wide with amusement.

"You're sick," I said.

Jose was too focused on the battle to answer.

Dempsey had recovered. Landon wasn't willing to advance on him. He backed away trying to shout some sense into his friend. But Dempsey's eyes were locked on Landon in a predatory fashion, and his hands were exposed and waiting at his sides to grasp at Landon's bare arms and neck.

"Dempsey! Stop! What are you doing?" Landon shouted, backing away quickly from his friend.

Cam, Claire, and Derrick contributed to the chaos too by shouting encouragement to Landon and begging Dempsey to stop. But their guards quieted them quickly.

Dempsey was nearly on Landon. For defense, Landon produced some kind of translucent force field that enveloped him. I'd never known he had obtained such an ability. But clearly it wasn't well practiced, and the force field began to flicker and wane as Dempsey pounded it doggedly with his fists.

Landon ducked away and hurried to the other side of the room. Dempsey followed, and was soon dangerously close to Landon again.

Landon's hands ignited with dark flames, and he cried out in surprise.

"The chemicals are taking effect," Jose said cheerfully. "Now, his emotions control his abilities."

Dempsey was wary of the flames, but his approaches didn't waver.

Landon looked around the room wildly, searching for Claire. "Claire!" he shouted. "I can't control them!" Evidently he was referring to the 3 feet flames coming from his hands.

Claire nodded and concentrated. The flames disappeared.

"What is this?" Jose shrieked.

Landon hurried around Dempsey. Too quickly. Suddenly he was at the other side of the room, stumbling dizzily from the sudden speed.

He tried to take a step, and ended up on the floor several feet away. "Claire?" he called. "Control the speed?"

He stood, and to my relief, was at a normal pace again.

Dempsey became frustrated. He ran now, at Landon.

Landon dodged his advances, but his lack of control over his abilities was making him messy and clumsy.

His hands continued to ignite every so often, but Claire thankfully would suppress him, and assure that the fire never touched Dempsey.

I looked around the room, registering every person, considering who looked mysteriously concentrated. I knew it was mind control. Someone in this room was a super, a super who was very good at keeping their identity hidden, and they were controlling Dempsey.

The guards seemed normal. They were either focused on keeping their captive from struggling (Cam, Claire, Derrick or me) or watching the battle with the normal focus one would apply to observing a hand-to-hand fight. The mayor seemed a little vacant. Either he was deep in thought, or he was secretly a super—and controlling Dempsey.

"Stop running, you coward!" Dempsey growled.

"I don't want to hurt you!" Landon cried.

He skittered around him a few more times. "But I'm going to have to knock you out!" Landon declared.

Dempsey made a sudden lunge for Landon, who disappeared.

I frowned. Had Landon just accidentally turned invisible?

But it was working to his advantage. Suddenly Dempsey cried out and stumbled, having presumably been hit over the head.

Landon reappeared. He hit Dempsey again, and I couldn't help but wince.

Dempsey fell to the floor in defeat. He was looking around wildly, gasping. "What happened? How did I get here?"

The mind-control had been released, apparently.

Landon exhaled loudly. "Thank god, you're back to normal."

Dempsey stood slowly, glancing around at his seemingly unfamiliar surroundings. "What am I doing here?"

Then he did something very unexpected. He grabbed Landon's neck; having thoroughly tricked him into thinking he'd been released from mind control.

"Landon!" I screamed, and instinctively teleported beside him. Without thinking I slapped Dempsey across the face. The impact with his skin burned my hand, but I was more concerned for Landon. He lay on the floor, eyelids fluttering.

"There's a lot of thoughts in this room," he mumbled deliriously. I wished he'd never met Alicia and absorbed her power. Not being able to control mind reading was like instant death. The thoughts just flooded in and consumed everything. And the chemicals enhanced the overall experience, unfortunately. He wouldn't even be able to think.

"Landon," I said, cradling his head in my arms. "Can you hear me?"

"Let me finish him," Dempsey said stonily. "I don't want to have to kill you. Let me finish him off."

Tears of fear and worry for Landon's health momentarily blurred my vision, but I looked up at Dempsey. "Whoever is controlling Dempsey," I said flatly. "I will kill you if you don't leave him alone."

"I hear her," Landon said, still delirious from the onslaught of thoughts. "I hear her voice in his head. She's controlling Dempsey." Then he drifted into unconsciousness.

_Her._

The only females in the room were Claire and me. And—

I gasped.

Jose.

"All along," I said distantly. "_You filthy hypocrite_."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded angrily.

I should've noticed she had been watching the boys fight with unusual concentration. I assumed it was just her sick nature. She wanted to see violence, she wanted to see one of them die in the other's hands. She had been controlling Dempsey. She knew they wouldn't fight on their own accord. Even with an incentive.

Aunt Jose, an anti-super, _was a super._

"You're a mind-controller," I said. Then I said it louder. "You're a mind controller. You're a _super_."

The room went eerily silent.

"You've gone utterly insane!" Jose shouted.

But her concentration had broken. Dempsey was looking around perplexedly. "What the hell is going on?" he said. "Where are my gloves?"

She'd been exposed.

She snatched a gun from a nearby guard and pointed it at me. I had only a second to react. I hit the floor.

The bullet sound had Landon conscious and on his feet in seconds. "Claire stop the thoughts!" he called out to her.

He began walking determinedly towards Jose.

She still brandished the gun, and she was holding it, aimed at him, shakily. "You know what really sets off a super who's on that chemical we injected into you?" she said as he continued to approach. "Pain." She pulled the trigger. Landon crumpled. And it wasn't a tranquilizer she wielded. It was a real, bullet propelling gun.

"Landon!" I knelt beside him.

"Massie, you have to leave," he said, wincing. "She's right. With pain, I can't concentrate on suppressing my abilities."

"But Claire, she can help," I insisted. The smallest of tears dropped down onto his clenched fist.

"Too late."

The guards, confused as to who their superior was now, flocked to the mayor.

"Jose," the mayor said, with an air of authority. "You're a liar, and a sick, sick woman. I'm a good man, so I won't tell anyone about your disability. But I never want to be involved with you again." He left the room, escorted by the twenty-nine guards who had just dismissed themselves from their contemptible master.

"Where are you going, you stupid men?" she hissed.

The lead guard stopped in the threshold and raised an eyebrow. "We don't work for _supers_," he said.

Jose raised the gun once again—at me. "You stupid b"—

Dempsey ripped the gun from her weak grip and was wrestling with her on the floor. Cam, Claire and Derrick rushed to our aid.

"He's just hanging onto consciousness," Claire announced solemnly, wiping sweat from Landon's forehead.

"We need medical help," Cam said.

"In Foster City?" I wanted to laugh, but this wasn't exactly a humorous situation. "Think about who we are."

The smallest of flames ignited in Landon's hand.

"Claire, get that for him," I ordered briskly as I worked to shake Landon out of his trance.

"I—I can't," Claire choked.

I glanced up at her. "Why the hell not?" I demanded impatiently.

"There's a barrier. Something's not letting me get to him. It might be the chemicals. They're really taking effect now."

I cussed.

Behind us, Dempsey was standing over my aunt's motionless form.

He joined us.

"Ten seconds?" I asked absentmindedly as I wiped sweat away from Landon's face.

"Twenty," Dempsey corrected me coldly.

My heart skipped a beat.

"You killed her?" Cam's eyes were wide with horror.

Dempsey nodded. "It was necessary."

I didn't know whether to thank him or to fling myself at him, hitting the life out of him.

The flames were growing. "Massie." It was Landon speaking. "Thank you. But you have to go. I can't control the flames. No one can. You'll die. Get out of the building."

"Never."

"Stop being stubborn. _You'll die_."

"And you'll die too if I leave you."

Landon attempted a smile. "That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

The floor underneath his hands was sizzling, threatening to ignite at any moment.

"Claire, come on, suppress!" I shouted, losing my temper and patience.

Everyone watched gravely, already having accepted what I wasn't willing to accept. Saving Landon was a hopeless quest.

"Do you know what the former owners washed this floor with?" Landon asked at random. He was stroking the floor beside him. "Oil-infused water. I can smell it."

"Oil-infused water," Derrick echoed uneasily. "But that means that…"

"This entire floor will go up in flames," Dempsey finished for him.

Landon grimaced. "You have to go. Now."

"You know I won't."

"Derrick? Get her out of here."

Derrick reached for my arm.

"You know I'll just teleport back."

The floor ignited. Everyone scattered, but I stayed, kneeling beside Landon.

The air was dry and hot, but I could feel the tears moistening my face better than the licking, hot flames.

"Give me your hand, Landon, I'll teleport you out of here."

"What about the others?"

"They've probably already escaped."

Landon shook his head emphatically. "Not Dempsey. He's in love with you. He'll wait."

"Give me your damn hand."

"You know why I can't, Massie," Landon said, abruptly becoming angry. "You know how the power-obtaining thing works."

I tried to wipe the tears from my face, but fresh tears followed right after. "I don't understand."

"Try and grab my hand, Massie," he said.

I did. The physical contact stung me like hell, and I reeled away, gasping.

"The death touch," Landon said grimly. "And now I have it too."

"Massie!"

It was Dempsey who called my name.

"He's waiting," Landon said. "Go." The flames were reflecting in his bright blue eyes. His dark hair was covered with dust and ash.

"Landon," I said, but I was crying so hard I couldn't even form words.

"Go."

I stood and began to follow the sound of Dempsey's voice.

"Massie?"

I turned.

He lay there pathetically, looking up at me, managing despite everything, to smile. "Don't you dare forget me."

…

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(Have no fear. There's still one more chapter!)


	15. The End and the Beggining

PART 11: as told by Massie

"Mass? Mass?"

I opened my eyes slowly, revealing a heartening scene of Claire, Cam, Dempsey, and Derrick hovering over me, looking extremely concerned.

Each one of them presumably had sustained minor injuries, because they each had a least one small bandage positioned somewhere around their body.

I tried to sit up, and groaned.

"You're in a hospital," Dempsey told me slowly. "They're treating you for minor burns."

"Foster City?" I whispered.

Derrick shook his head. "No. And the doctors and nurses don't _know_, so be subtle." He smirked, characteristically playful, I speculated happily.

"Oh god," I moaned. My entire body, which seemed virtually unscathed, ached and hurt. "I'm not burnt anywhere but my hands, why does my entire body hurt?"

Dempsey frowned. "Don't you remember?"

Derrick giggled quietly while I thought.

"I just remember…" I trailed off, a new type of pain greeting me. Landon: dead.

"Massie," Dempsey said in a wary tone, "you saved him."

I bolted upright in my bed, clutching my blankets. "_What? He's alive_?"

I frantically tried to detach myself from the straps that kept me in the bed. "Where is he?"

"But if you don't remember…" Dempsey exchanged looks with the others. He turned back to me, ignoring the fact I was thrashing wildly, trying to free myself. "I held onto your aunt for nineteen seconds. Maybe that one second I spared kept her alive for a little. Though I assumed she was dead instantly. Because the only way you couldn't remember is if she controlled your mind for those few seconds."

"But why would her aunt control Massie to save Landon?" Cam pointed out. "She hated supers. And she had just been nearly killed by one."

"She wouldn't do that, especially on the verge of death," Claire agreed. "And you know how people are after they've experienced the death touch. Remember the concierge? He was acting insane."

"Maybe the temporary insanity was what drove her to do it," Dempsey said thoughtfully.

"Will you all shut up and tell me what happened, or tell me where Landon is?" I nearly shouted.

"Well, just as you were coming through the flames to meet me," Dempsey began to explain, "you suddenly went all stoic. Then you turned and ran to Landon. And you grabbed his arm. You screamed a lot at that point, I guess because of the death touch he acquired from me, and then you teleported him."

"And teleporting someone with a death touch put you in a coma for four days," Claire added softly.

I racked my brain for a memory of this heroic rescue, but it must've been mind-control that made me do it, because I had no recollection of saving Landon.

"So what happened to you, Dempsey?"

He flushed a little. "Well, uh, I just ran out of there."

"Sorry about ditching you like that. You could've died," I said meekly. Whoever was influencing my mind obviously had only the intent of saving Landon, and didn't care for Dempsey at all.

"You were under mind-control." Dempsey shrugged.

Someone burst through the door suddenly, panting—Landon. His eyes landed on me, and he practically flew across the room to my side.

"Massie, Massie," he said, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm, so, glad, you're, alive, and so glad, you, saved, me, I," he paused to swallow some air, "love you."

I smiled. "It wasn't me, you know. It was a mysterious mind-controller."

"I know," he grinned sheepishly. "I'm still grateful."

I tried to hug him, but the restraints on the bed kept me from doing so.

"Where did I teleport you, by the way?" I inquired curiously.

"To your home," Claire answered. "Then you were unconscious, so your mom took us all to the hospital."

"Did you tell her about Jose?" I asked quietly, lowering my eyes.

"Yeah," Cam said. "She didn't respond well, but she understood it had to be done."

So all was well and resolved. Granted, the founders were still scouring the country for us, and we were no longer out of their reach in Foster City, but as we always did, we'd come up with something.

Someone knocked on the door of my hospital room. Claire tentatively opened the door, and a handsome suited man holding a brief case stood in the threshold, an old fashioned pipe hanging from his mouth.

"Are you the six supers who successfully infiltrated Foster City?" he asked, removing the pipe from his mouth and grinning widely at us.

We all exchanged wary expressions.

"Um, no," Cam volunteered when no one else would.

The strange man closed the door behind him and extended his arm towards Dempsey. Dempsey shook his hand, followed by Landon, who both seemed equally as puzzled.

"Lovely gloves you two wear," he said smugly, jamming the pipe back into his mouth. "Two death touch, that's what the report reads."

"Who are you?" I demanded. "And what report?" This man was clever, and organized. He seemed authoritative, but didn't treat us as inferiors.

"My name's Josh. Dr. Josh E. Hotz." The pipe hung precariously from his red-lipped smile. "I have a proposition to make."

"Go on," Dempsey said, narrowing his eyes.

"I work for a group, located in New York City called _The Violet Crusade_. Everyone who works for this force is a super. And we're all working towards a common goal."

I stared at this handsome businessman type in wonder. I'd heard of organizations bent towards abolishing supers, but never one that supported them and consisted of only super members.

"The Violet Crusade helps people. Basically, we recruit powerful, brave, good supers. We set them up in normal lives in New York City, and every night they gather and work towards achieving good. Fighting crime, all that stuff." Josh leaned against the wall and chewed distractedly on his pipe. "These supers never reveal their identity to the public. We issue masks, costumes if you will. They help stifle crime."

Derrick was slack-jawed. "So basically, the Violet Crusade is a secret organization for…super heroes?"

"Exactly," Josh said. He looked up expectantly at his astounded audience. "Whad'ya think, super heroes, New York City, that work for ya?"

I looked to Landon, who shrugged. Claire and Cam were tittering nervously at the idea, and Derrick seemed merely in awe. Dempsey was stony faced, but he didn't seem to be rejecting the idea.

"Well, I'm in," I announced, and Josh stomped his foot triumphantly. "The teleporter's in! Who's next?"

It was a little miffing, the fact that this man knew way too much information about us.

Slowly, the members of the group agreed.

"Fantastic!" Josh crowed. Without even uttering a good bye, he swept out of the room.

He had left a small piece of paper on the floor. It read_: to all auditioning supers, meet at the biggest statue in Central park, Friday, at midnight. _

"Wow," I breathed. "No time for recovery, I suppose. We better get going."

"Recovery?" Landon scoffed playfully. "Who needs to spare time for that." He leaned in and kissed me. "Especially when we got so much adventure coming."

…

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THE END


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